


Volatile Times

by degradedpsychotic



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 76,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/degradedpsychotic/pseuds/degradedpsychotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knew how it started. One day, everything was fine. Nibelhiem's football team won their first ever homecoming game. The next day, the football team was dead. Just like everything else. </p><p>Safety is nothing but an illusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Why did you do that? I mean, you could have gone in first and avoided it…”

“Because I care about you.”

“Why?”

There was a silence, only filled by a pained grunt when a bandage was ripped off to be changed, dried blood being dabbed at with a scrap of fabric soaked in disinfectant. The silence soon became pregnant, the smaller of the two beginning to push his cold beans around the little tin can with his spoon, knees huddling up to a skinny chest. He averted his eyes, not wanting to watch the other tend to the wounds from the day. The wounds that he had gotten by acting as a meat shield to his younger brother.

“Because you’re my brother, Roxas. Now stop being stupid and eat.”

The silence returned, but this time in anger. Roxas didn’t look up from his unappetizing dinner until he heard the scuffle of the boots his brother wore, blue eyes following him as he replaced the rapidly depleting first aid kit in his pack. There was a certain moment of tenseness in the air as he lifted the pack easily—Their food, water, medicine, and ammunition was all running low. They needed to stock up soon, but being stranded in a car garage was the opposite of useful. All they managed to scavenge were a few maps from the insides of rotted cars and some pocket change. Not exactly what they needed, but the super-sized mall connected to the massive concrete structure was too infested to go inside.

The taller blonde gave a soft sigh before he carried the pack with him, sitting on the thin blanket he only used because Roxas wouldn’t let him ignore it. He laid down, back to his brother, using the pack as a pillow. Roxas continued to prod at his beans, not really in the mood for them anymore. Not that he really _had_ been in the first place, really…

“Cloud?”

Roxas startled, looking over at the lump beside him that he thought had long fallen asleep. Sora’s bedhead was poking out from the top of his sleeping bag, his pack right in front of his face. He had been prodding at the fabric, checking the levels of his own supplies. He didn’t speak again until he got a grunt from the older sibling, his head burying deeper into the blankets when he blurted out his question.

“How much farther?”

It was the same question every night. Whether it was from him or Roxas, the question was always posed. The answer was the same every time though, as if their destination was always floating out of their grasp. It was a mirage by now, and they were uncertain if they would ever even arrive or if the place even existed. Midgar sounded like a weird name for a town anyway.

“A few more days.”

A small murmur of “okay” was the only response, Sora rolling over and peeking around polyester so he could see his brother. He frowned at him, noticing the way Roxas was playing with his food. Roxas only shrugged in response, silently offering it to him instead. The brunet frowned as he wiggled back into hiding, leaving Roxas the only one that wasn’t tucked in for the night.

He couldn’t sleep. Not really. He had barely slept since their venture had started, and the bags under his eyes weighed nearly twenty pounds by this point. He was quiet and irritable as a personality trait, but the two habits had only gotten worse as nightmares prevented him from getting any form of rest. He wished he could pass out as fast as Cloud could. He wished he could snore like that. He wished he could smile in his sleep like Sora did; as if nothing was wrong. He wished he could just eat his damn beans and get some sleep, but he couldn’t.

So he started to wander.

He left his beans on the cement floor in the center of their little camp, eyes adjusting to the late dusk light enough for him to find his metal pipe amongst the floor—Cloud didn’t trust him with guns. He said they were too dangerous and Roxas wasn’t trained properly with them, but he had fired one before. A few times, actually. He found the weapon comforting, even if his brother forbade it.

But Cloud was asleep, so what would he know?

Scowling at the little rule, Roxas began to dig through the saddle bags on Cloud’s oversize motorcycle, eventually pulling out the rifle and checking the ammunition. He had five shots left, and only a dozen or less extra shells in the bottom of the bag. He left the excess to help disguise his theft, holding the rifle securely and giving a final look at his brothers to make sure they were truly asleep before he started down the slope of the garage to get to the main floor, making sure to take his own backpack with him.

The monsters were quiet at night. They didn’t sleep, but they certainly became more lethargic. They were less likely to run, but much more likely to hang out in groups. Traveling at night was more dangerous due to that factor. It was easy to sneak by one of them, but much more difficult in a group of twenty or more. The darkness did not seem to blind them as it did the humans, yet using any sort of light simply attracted them like moths to a flame.

No one knew where they came from. No one really knew how the outbreak had come about, or why it did the things it did. All anyone knew was that suddenly people were turning into cannibals and eating each other. They hunted like beasts, preying on humans and animals alike. Roxas had the misfortune of seeing some old lady eat her own cat. They craved blood and wouldn’t settle for anything less, unless it was brains. The best name for them was zombies. Roxas, personally, didn’t like to think of them as zombies. To call them zombies gave him memories of all those stupid, cheesy horror movies with the ketchup-looking blood, or those video games where you not only shot Nazis, but _zombie_ Nazis. The whole concept of zombies just seemed so… fictitious. But the proof was staring him right in the face.

His parents were dead because of zombies. The entire world was dying because of them. There were government-fueled quarantines specially built to keep the zombies out and the people safe while scientists worked in a lab trying to come up with a cure or something to stop them. He and his brothers were trekking cross-country on a motorbike that was almost on empty because they needed to get to one of those government quarantines to find the rest of their extended family. Namely, their grandparents. If they were even alive.

The world was a shit hole.

Roxas eventually made it back to the ground floor, picking his steps more carefully. There were corpses on the ground from their earlier scuffle, infected blood pooling and making his sneakers stick to the ground. Most of the bodies were either missing heads, beaten beyond recognition, or had bullets in their skulls. They didn’t move as Roxas made his way through, squeezing through the small opening of the garage where a piece of the ceiling had fallen and wedged itself. There was still a bit of fabric on the spot where Cloud cut open his arm on a jagged edge.

He used to like walking at night. Back when they lived in a nice little suburb with white picket fences and nice cars. He could walk outside and stare at the sky, or climb on his roof and try to find constellations between the clouds. He missed the peace. He missed the hoot of owls, the distant howls of coyotes. Now, the only noise was groaning from the undead or the distant twitter of birds that had found a place high above the danger zone, trying to lure more of their kind so they could have a family.

That being said, even the wildlife was dangerous now. The virus didn’t limit itself to humans in the least. If a zombie took a bite out of a dog, it was more likely that the dog would undergo the same changes as the human, rather than die. Unless, of course, it was eaten as a whole.

Roxas didn’t like to think about that.

He didn’t like to think about much, really.

He made his way down the street, ducking behind stationary cars when he heard the slightest noise. He could hear zombies in the immediate vicinity—He just couldn’t _see_ them. The moon was being fickle, only showing a sliver in an otherwise cloudy sky. Every so often, a streetlight would sporadically flicker on, only to burn right back off as soon as the electricity left it again. He stayed close to the wall of buildings, squinting in the scarce light to find a store that would be useful to him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Cloud’s ability to take care of him and Sora. He was their brother, after all, and he would more often than not take the metaphorical bullet for the two. The only drawback was that the older blonde would usually leave Sora and Roxas somewhere he deemed safe (normally far, _far_ above ground level and with reinforced doors) and take off on his motorcycle. Sometimes he would be back in a couple hours, sometimes he would be back in a couple days. But he would always come back, and it was always with supplies.

Roxas just didn’t like to _wait_.

He found a small clinic eventually, if a dentist’s office even counted as such. He snuck up the lawn and tip-toed through the rose bushes in order to get to the main window, squinting inside of it and staring until he was certain that nothing was moving indoors. Satisfied with his discovery, he moved around to the front doors, not surprised when it was locked. Leaning the rifle against the brick wall, he fished his Swiss army knife from his pocket, shoving the blade into the lock and attempting to pick it. Lucky for him, the lock was cheap and gave rather easily. Putting his knife away, he picked up his rifle and cautiously went indoors.

He didn’t expect all of the emergency flood lights to turn on, siren blaring to life.

Panic immediately set in, the blond briefly going through the stages of fight or flight. He could run out and hope he picked a direction that the zombies weren’t in, or he could grab what he needed and lock himself up until the noise and light stopped and he could safely escape. He opted for the second choice, slamming the door behind him and shoving a couch in front of it, putting chairs over that before he had essentially re-arranged the waiting room outside of the wall-mounted, scum-covered fish tank, yanking the curtains shut afterword. He ran past the receptionist’s area, bolting through the loose door that led to the examination rooms. He couldn’t find anything to block the door with, so just settled for dashing into the farthest examination room he found.

His backpack slammed into the ground as he began ripping open drawers and cupboards, grabbing handfuls of gauze, sterile needles, surgical thread and needles, disinfectant, hand sanitizer, and plastic gloves. He even grabbed a few toothbrushes and bottles of toothpaste because, _damn,_ did they stink. Teeth-brushing would at least add a little mint to their constant body odor.

Once he had emptied the room of everything useful, he peeked through the curtain in the waiting room to check outside. He could see a large group of zombies ambling across the road, still about fifty feet or so from the dentist office. They moved slowly, but their destination was obvious.

His heart was slamming in his ribs, fear gripping him when he realized just how big of a mess he had gotten into. The sound had probably woken up Cloud and Sora, if it was that loud, and there would probably be another horde on its way with the first. He knew that he could definitely outrun the small gathering across the road if he could find a back exit, but then—

The sound of a dull thud got the blond’s attention, forgoing his stance at the front of the building and drawing him back. He waited, holding his breath until he heard it again. It didn’t sound like it was inside, but it was trying its damnedest to get in. He hesitated, knowing from horror movie experience that nothing good came of investigating noises, but having enough experience from real life that it was better he investigate than be caught by surprise. Following the occasional noise, he found the source coming from the window in the first examination room. He risked a peek through the curtain and nearly screamed at the sight, stumbling back until he hit a swivel chair, tripping over it and landing on his ass on the floor.

He was surrounded.

The rational part of his mind that hadn’t frozen up was going at a mile a minute, reminding him that he needed to go before he really was zombie food. He staggered back to his feet and darted out of the examination room, slamming the door to the waiting room back open and checking the front again. The horde was drawing closer, dragging their feet through the grass, but Roxas knew this was his only chance. The horde at the side of building stretched all the way back, but if he stopped to double-check, he could lose his window.

Window?

Right. The _window_ …

Stepping back, he yanked the curtain open and slammed the butt of the rifle into the glass. His jaw clenched when it didn’t even crack, ramming it with his gun again and again but he was losing his opportunity—

Of course the place would have fucking bullet-proof glass and an alarm system. Just his _fucking_ luck.

He gave up and sprinted back to the rear of the building, back to a door labeled STAFF ONLY. He was conflicted when he came across a break room, part of him wanting to look for food that hadn’t spoiled yet, but the other half knowing that he had to get the hell out. There was a fire exit in the back, labeled with a warning that the alarm would sound if it was open. Briefly registering that the system was already blaring, he didn’t even think twice as he shoved the door open and broke out into a flat sprint.

He was relieved that there was a break between the two hordes, just enough for him to run out. He knew they saw him, however, as the moaning and groaning picked up and changed into frantic grunting as they attempted to give chase. But Roxas was faster, even if he _was_ slower than both of his brothers.

He ducked into an alleyway and quickly ran through his options. He knew he couldn’t lead the zombies back to the garage, not wanting to put anyone else in danger. His pack was still relatively light, and he knew that he could fit more in it. So he made a split decision when the grunts began coming from both directions, flinging himself at the nearest fire escape and racing up it.

The fear and ache of his lungs and legs didn’t set in until he had found a window that was just _barely_ open and pried it open the rest of the way with numb fingers, tumbling in and promptly onto a window seat. He laid there for several minutes, pressing his face against the dusty cotton as he tried to calm his thundering heart and his hyperventilating. After a moment, he shrugged off his pack and dropped the rifle, which he was amazed that he still remembered to hold onto in his brief panic.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes had dragged by that Roxas sat up, breathing back as normal as it would be. He was still on edge, covered in sweat and feeling like he just ran a marathon. The panic was still bubbling just under his skin, reminding him that he didn’t even know where he was until he sat up and took a look around the place. It was a quaint little office, most likely that of the building manager. He rose from his seat on shaking legs, knowing that he wasn’t in the clear. The building could be just as infested as the streets, and while the siren was still blaring, there had to still be zombies around that weren’t interested in the ruckus.

He pulled his pack back on and grabbed up the rifle after trying (and succeeding with the obvious down-and-out scenario) to come up with a plan to get back to the garage. He stepped through the office carefully, holding the rifle with the safety off and his finger hovering over the trigger. He only had five shots, and he knew that he had to use them wisely.

The office led into a receptionist’s area with a few chairs for a waiting room, with nothing of interest within. Everything was coated in a layer of dirt and dust, the door wide open and a few chairs tipped over as if everyone had left in a hurry. The open door led to a short hall that didn’t have much other than a stairway and an elevator, but it was too dark within the building to be certain of anything else. At least there had been a little bit of moonlight in the office. He found out the stairs went both up and down, but there was some sort of barricade if he went higher up. It was made of desks and chairs and a variety of other office furniture, impassable to matter how he tried to climb it. He figured that was the point though—it kept out the zombies. So he headed down, as jittery as ever about what lay at the end. He knew that the horde in the alley had probably continued on to the dentist office, but there was the possibility of a few leaving the group or milling around downstairs.

He soon discovered that the building he was in was actually a large office complex, as every floor he peeked in at contained the same thing. Cubicles, coffee machines, restrooms, and more offices. It was boring, but the amount of hiding spots that the dead could be utilizing didn’t sit well with him. Neither did the fact that none of the chairs were pushed in, a few were tipped over, and almost every door was open. He couldn’t help wonder about what had happened there, but he chalked it up to zombies and left it at that. Maybe they were assigned an emergency evacuation, as the main office seemed to be the only place where he had found any order.

He came to a sudden halt, however, when another roadblock appeared, the same as the first. His brows furrowed together as he, once again, failed to find a way to pass it. Even climbing over the rail wasn’t possible. He knew that the arrangement meant one of two things; neither of which he was very happy with. It either meant that he was inside the area where the zombies had been trapped by these barricades, or he was in the only safe zone and would be shot simply out of reflex if anyone saw him shuffling around like he was.

He swallowed thickly at the possibilities, staying still as he tried to think. There had to have been four or five floors between the first block and this one, which seemed like too large of an area for a few refugees. Looking out the dusty window that encased the entire stairwell, he could assume he was only one, maybe two floors from the ground. It didn’t make sense for humans to be taking sanctuary on the first floor, but that didn’t instill much reassurance. Then again, he would rather be shot than eaten alive, when it came to his demise. He was too on-edge, however, to start looking for any refugees. If there were any, they were long dead. The air in the building was stagnant and stale, giving Roxas the impression that it had been abandoned for quite some time. He didn’t know what inhabited places smelled like, as he had never seen them after the breakout, but he assumed that this certainly wasn’t it.

He didn’t really want to try jumping out the window, not wanting to take out a window so large and make so much noise. He had already risked his neck enough tonight—He didn’t need to do it again. So he set to work figuring out how the barricade was made, flicking the safety back on as he used the rifle as a crowbar. After nearly a half hour, he was already covered in sweat (more than he had been, at least) and only succeeded in making a small opening. He took that as better than nothing, however, scrambling over the desks and chairs and cubicle walls until he was on the other side, dropping himself clumsily and tumbling down a few stairs until he got to the next landing. Groaning at the bumps and bruises given to him by metal-edged stairs, he righted himself and dusted off his perpetually dirty, faded flannel before he headed down the last couple flights of stairs, coming out in the lobby.

It seemed as if neither of his suspicions were true, as there weren’t any people in the lobby either. He figured they all must have died within the barricade, as they obviously couldn’t leave to get food, or the barricades were simply put up by someone on the top floors. One to stop the weak zombies, one to stop the stronger ones. He figured that made sense.

He searched the lobby briefly, but found nothing but more dusty furniture and a few cockroaches. He trudged back out to the street, surprised that the front doors were unlocked, and started following his rough mental map of the area to find his way back to the garage. He didn’t see any wandering hordes, and made sure to sneak behind cars when he passed the dentist office (when the hell was the siren going to turn off anyway?) and was as silent as possible when he rounded the corner to enter the garage.

Right into another horde.

It took him a moment to react, stumbling back as if he had bumped into a real person. But the stench was overwhelming and he felt the urge to vomit, blue eyes wide and terrified as he stared into blank, cloudy brown. The zombies seemed just as surprised, but they reacted first by grunting, as if trying to confirm with each other that, yes, this was a meal in front of them. They began to shuffle forward and Roxas thought on instinct, taking a step back and raising the rifle. Some zombies were smart enough to hide when a gun was aimed at them, but these ones didn’t even care. They kept advancing, even when there was a resounding _bam_ and their leader’s head was blown clear off his shoulders at the point-blank range. The noise got more attention than he wanted, mentally cursing himself for not grabbing his pipe, or at least Cloud’s small sword that was strapped to the side of his bike. But the horde was suddenly all around him, moving quickly despite the hour. Using the butt of the gun, he smashed in one of their heads, accidentally firing at the force and managing to take out a third. He stumbled back until his head hit cement wall, firing the gun again, taking out one more and getting the horde to slow their advance, wary of the firepower. He shot again, watching another head explode before he did the math.

One more bullet.

Panic set in, and it set in fast. He was shaking so hard that he could barely hold the gun, his heart rising to choke him. He couldn’t even count the number of zombies that were stalking him, but he knew it was easily into the double-digits, even after five carcasses hit the ground. He pressed himself against the wall and, for a brief moment, he considered turning the gun on himself. He would rather be shot than eaten alive, right? One shot left, and what better use for it? The zombies would keep coming if he shot one, but if he shot himself, that would be it. His brothers would find his body and his backpack and that would be that. Why not?

His brief contemplation of suicide was shattered when he heard the roar of a familiar motorcycle, blue eyes going wide when he managed to catch Cloud’s familiar hair, gasping when he saw the cleaver-like sword cut through the rear of the horde. Blood spurted up in a macabre explosion, limbs and heads rolling onto the road. The zombies halted again, not sure which food they would choose. But as Cloud veered off to make a wide circle to take out the rest, at least one of them made their decision.

Roxas didn’t even notice how close he was to the horde (he was too focused on not spewing up his beans, thank you very much), until he felt cold hands grabbing his arms. He immediately cried out and managed to fire the rifle at the handsy zombie, not even flinching when some of its blood splattered onto his face and his sleeve was ripped clean off from the surprisingly tight grip that the zombie kept even in undead-death. The others seemed to take after him, decaying hands flying out to grab at their prey. Roxas floundered as the rifle was knocked from his hands, feet kicking and arms swinging as he tried to get free. Cloud had made it back and he dumped his bike, cutting the zombies down left and right as he fought his way to his brother. When he heard a scream, he moved even faster, yanking Roxas off of the ground where he had fallen and running back into the garage with the younger in his arms before anymore zombies could show up at the scene.

Sora was, surprisingly, wide awake when they ran back. It usually took physical assault to make the brunet wake up, but the noise seemed to have been plenty enough for him. He was wide-eyed and clinging to the front of his sleeping bag when the two came back, but he let go of it in favor of covering his mouth. He didn’t say a word as Roxas collapsed on top of his sleeping bag, immediately curling into a ball as his entire body flexed in pain. He was clinging to his arm, where there was a steady stream of blood as Cloud simply cut the backpack off of him to keep him comfortable. The slight rattle in the fabric caught his attention, but he tossed it to Sora before sprinting for the first aid. Sora began diving through the contents, squealing in surprise at all the first aid. His cheers, however, were quickly becoming drowned out by Roxas’ screaming.

“Shut up,” Cloud breathed, body tense as he continued to look over his shoulder for any zombies that had managed to chase them, grabbing the first aid kit and plopping down next to his brother. “Roxas! Roxas, stop it!” His voice didn’t get to him, so he took it upon himself to use force. He ripped the blonde’s arm from him, earning a startled scream before Roxas bit hard enough on the fabric of his sleeping bag to rip it. He began to thrash around wildly as Cloud doused the wound in antiseptic, even going so far as to take the disinfectant wipes that Sora had discovered to rub at the wound. Roxas was quickly getting pale and sweating bullets, but his thrashing was starting to settle and his screams muffled to whines.

“Stay with me, Roxas. You’re going to be okay.” The words were spat out through clenched teeth as Cloud tried to cleanse the wound as best he could, grabbing the gauze Sora had retrieved for him to tie up the wound on his forearm. There were moments of silence in which Roxas’ newly bandaged arm was inspected before Cloud frowned heavily, Roxas completely unconscious.

“Is he okay…?”

“He needs the sleep,” he sighed after a moment, running a hand through his messy hair before he began cleaning up the mess he had made. There was blood on his hands, and he was quick to clean them with the hand sanitizer and clean bits of his pants, getting Roxas’ face clean before he began putting everything away silently. Sora moved to tuck his brother in, frowning at the red that was already starting to bleed through the bandage. He hovered over his older brother like a hawk, not paying much attention when Cloud laid back down, not looking at them.

“Cloud…”

It was a squeak, but it got the attention of the eldest as it was intended. If only that attention was in just a grunt.

“He… got bit, didn’t he?”

There was an uncomfortable pause, during which Roxas’ finger twitched on his injured arm.

“Yeah.”

“Is he going to turn into one of those things…?”

“No. I won’t let him.”

“But…”

“Go to bed, Sora. We’ll reach Midgar by tomorrow. We can get someone to heal him there.”

The brunet frowned, torn between the excitement of finally reaching their destination and the sudden darkness looming in his brother’s future. But he didn’t say anything, grabbing his sleeping bag and curling up next to his unconscious brother as Cloud began to snore, or at least pretended to. The morning wasn’t far off by now, but they needed their rest either way. Sora slept well, as he usually did, but Cloud spent a majority of the night wide awake, staring at the bumper of an abandoned pick-up truck.

He didn’t have the heart to tell his brothers that the bite was incurable, but the truth would come out some point. He knew that it took around two to three days for a full transformation, giving them a little time before the virus spread too far. He knew that amputation was their best option, but he also knew Roxas’ suicidal tendencies. Walking out and looking for trouble in the middle of the night was only one of his many ways of going about it. It didn’t make his brothers happy, but it was expected. Everyone they knew were all dead by now. The least Cloud could do was give his brother a choice. But either way, no one was going to be happy about it.

* * *

 

Cloud snored loudly. It wasn’t uncommon for him to attract attention, which led to the sort of nightly hideouts he always scouted out, and it wasn’t unnatural if one of his younger brothers woke up. Sora was the deepest sleeper, and he could stay asleep for hours until someone slapped him across the face. Lately, he had been sleeping fitfully, but the drama of the earlier night had worn him out. This time, it was Roxas that was woken up by chainsaw drags of air.

The first thing he was aware of was that his head hurt. The second thing he noted was that his arm hurt too, and as he gingerly pushed himself up, he was painfully aware of what had happened. Cloud’s snores weren’t even his focus as he brushed fingers over the bandage on his arm, memories slapping him in the face with the force of a train. He stiffened, blood running cold as he stared at the faintly bloody gauze. He didn’t even notice when Cloud snorted so loud that he woke himself up.

Blue eyes opened sleepily, his brain taking a lazy moment to register what he was seeing. Once he realized that Roxas was awake and sitting, he shot up too, the scratchy blanket shifting on the cement flooring. Roxas jumped a little at the sudden movement, looking up to his brother and not liking the concern that he saw there. He was too used to Cloud’s blank expressions. The crease between his eyebrows and the worry in his eyes was unsettling.

“How are you feeling?” Cloud nearly whispered, breaking the silence as if he was scared it was going to bite at him. His frown deepened when Roxas looked down, shrugging. “You’ve been out for a few hours, I’d say… Long enough for Sora to fall asleep.”

Roxas didn’t even notice that Sora was sound asleep beside him, curled up against his leg in his sleeping bag. He wasn’t smiling in his sleep. Not like he usually did.

“We should reach Midgar by tomorrow night,” the older informed, stifling a yawn on the heel of his palm. He blinked blearily, still trying to wake himself completely. “There should be a doctor there that can amputate your arm safely. I don’t wanna take the risk of doing it for you. I—“

“Don’t amputate it.”

Cloud blinked, his frown returning almost instantly. “But—“

“It’s my fault I got bit. It was my choice to sneak out last night, and this is… this is the consequence of that.”

“Roxas…”

Blue eyes dropped, looking back at the bandage as he continued to pick at the edges of it. It hurt, but he was trying to ignore it. Trying to be numb. “I never wanted to live like this in the first place.”

“Roxas, don’t—“

“Everyone’s dying or already dead, Cloud.” His eyes flicked back up, squinting at his brother’s shape in the darkness. His eyes had long since adjusted to the light allotted by the stairs, but he couldn’t see much other than where the light caught his brother’s eyes. “I didn’t know I’d be first, but… We’ll die soon. It’s hopeless, trying to get to Midgar. Just give up.”

“We can’t give up,” he snapped, leaning forward with his palms slapping on the cement. Sora grunted at the noise before burying his forehead into Roxas’ thigh, still asleep. “Roxas, you’re my brother. You and Sora are all I have left. Mom and Dad are dead, and Tifa is too. We don’t even know if Grandma and Pop are still alive. I’m not about to lose you too, dammit.”

“You don’t get to choose,” he hissed, fingers clenching over the wound. It shot pain up his arm and he quickly let go, looking away from Cloud to avoid feeling guilty. “This is how it is. It’s over.”

“It’s not over. We can get you to Midgar—“

“And then what? I get my arm sawed off at the shoulder and we live happy fucking lives?” he snarled, Sora beginning to stir a bit more at the noise. “Fuck off, Cloud. Stop trying to be a hero.”

There was a beat of silence before Cloud’s voice responded, low and growling as he gnashed his teeth together. “I’m not trying to be a hero, Roxas. I’m just doing what brothers should.”

“Then stop it,” he snapped, flopping back down in his sleeping bag. He was only aware of the next thirty seconds of silence before sleep took him back under.


	2. Chapter 2

Roxas didn’t wake up until the morning light was shining through the windows of the parking structure, making him see red through his eyelids. He didn’t move much, trying to piece together what had happened in his mind. The last thing he remembered was stealing Cloud’s rifle and going out to get supplies… It was all a blank after that, but he attributed his horrible memory to the fact that this was the first time he had actually slept in weeks, his body feeling like a five ton block of concrete on his polyester sleeping bag. He flexed his fingers and toes as he started to wake his stiff form, assessing that the most painful areas were his left arm and his neck. Although the pain in his neck he attributed to the lack of a proper pillow, he peeked his eyes open to check the rest.

His brothers didn’t seem to notice he was awake as they prepared. Sora was busy taking inventory of their rather weak arsenal of supplies and Cloud was busy threading a rubber tube into the tank of a truck to siphon the gas from it into his bike. They didn’t look up as Roxas squinted in the sun, his arms folded tight to his chest. He pulled them away to look, confused when he noticed that he only had one sleeve and the left one had ripped at the shoulder. He only bothered himself with that detail for a moment, however, as he was quickly becoming more worried with the bloodstained gauze that wrapped tight around his forearm. He couldn’t really tell where the wound was exactly, as such a large area was bandaged, but he knew that there had been more blood loss than was normal. Looking down at himself, he saw blood on his chest and opposite arm, pressed in the position in which he had been laying. Flexing his left wrist was what made him get the attention of his brothers, a pained gasp slipping out from his lips at the small movement. He immediately balled up again as the pain shot through his arm, beginning to throb in time with his fast-paced heart.

Sora looked up from the can of ravioli he had been inspecting, quickly scooting over to this brother and pushing his bangs out of his face. He called Roxas’ name softly, unsure, and looked over his shoulder to Cloud for silent help. The older put down the rubber hose down as soon as the rest of the fuel had drained into his bike, coming to crouch down and grab at Roxas’ wrist. The smaller cried out at the grip, attempting to curl in on himself again. Sora looked the most traumatized with the situation, his blue eyes bugging and entire frame shaking as he watched Cloud pull the arm out, moving fast to unravel the gauze. Roxas had stopped thrashing once his arm was lying on the cement, but he flinched every time Cloud’s hands passed over the wound. His healthy hand was gripping to the sleeping bag under him, giving all the strength he had left over to put on a strong face for Sora.

Once the bandages were removed, Sora let out an audible gasp. Roxas nearly vomited.

The blood that had dried between the gauze and the blonde’s skin had peeled off with the bandages, leaving the wound cleaner than it had been the night before. Cloud was ignoring the gore of it all and digging through Sora’s stacks of inventory for antiseptic to clean it with, leaving the boys to stare. The wound itself was rather clean; a circle in the shape of a jaw. Where the top row of teeth had dug in was much deeper, going far enough to shave at the muscle underneath and a few small blood vessels. The skin around the bite and inside the circle was what made Roxas’ stomach churn and the blood run from Sora’s face, the gravity of the situation slamming them both in the chest. The edges of the bite were blackened at the tip, fading into a steady gray and purple about two inches around the wound in any direction. Curious, Roxas lifted his hand to poke at a bit of the discolored skin, not being all that reassured at the fact that it was numb.

Their stares were interrupted when Cloud began to re-wrap the injury, his face taunt and stiff as he moved. His eyes seemed distant, as if he wasn’t paying attention, and yet his hands held the slightest tremble as he secured the gauze in place. Once it was re-wrapped, he stood, crossing back over to his bike to finish filling it with gas. Roxas pulled the arm back to his chest, rolling onto his side to turn his back to his brothers as he curled into a tight ball.

“Roxas…?” the brunet tried after a moment, sitting back on his heels and watching the back of his brother. He could see him breathing through the flannel, breaths fast and hard as his entire body shook harder than Cloud’s hands. If Sora didn’t know any better, he would have said Roxas was crying. But Roxas was too good at hiding his emotions.

It was a silent event as Cloud closed up the gas tank, giving Sora a meaningful look to get him to crawl back over to his little inventory piles. He put everything back, which didn’t take long. Three cans of corn, one can of meat ravioli, and a can of tuna wasn’t going to get them very far. Roxas’ leftover beans had been eaten for breakfast, and Cloud had already stated that they needed to do more hunting rather than settling on canned food. Hunting was dangerous, given the risk of getting an infected animal, but it was better than starving altogether. Their meager servings weren’t going to last long, but Cloud knew in the back of his head that soon they would be feeding one less mouth.

Backpacks were pulled on, Cloud carrying both his and Roxas’ on his back once he fixed the straps with duct tape. The saddlebags on the enormous bike were also packed, mostly holding weapons and bottles of water. Sora took it upon himself to highlight their path on one of the maps he had found in a sharpie he had discovered with it, proud of his little accomplishment when Cloud nodded to him and stuffed the map into the pocket of his hoodie. He looked over at his balled-up brother on the floor, a frown scrunching his features. Sora didn’t like that look, because he had seen it so often. It was a look that clearly showed his disdain for the situation, but a glint in his eyes warned Sora that this was worse than any of those times. This was even worse when their parents were found in the kitchen, missing their heads and most of their bodies from the zombie coyotes that had eaten them. Sora didn’t like seeing Cloud like that. He was seven years his elder; he wasn’t supposed to break. He was a rock. The rock keeping the shards of their family together.

“Midgar can help him, right?” Sora tried, watching the older cross over, bending at the knees to pick Roxas up like a big baby. Cloud didn’t flinch when Roxas bit out a cry of pain when his arm shifted, but Sora did.

“Yeah,” he lied easily. Even Sora could see through it.

“There has to be a cure.”

“If not, we’ll have to amputate.” His mind flashed back to the conversation they had had in the middle of the night. He wondered if Roxas even remembered it.

“No,” Roxas groaned, hysterics slipping into his voice as he began to lose his nerve. His breathing was nearing hyperventilating, his eyes squeezed shut so tight that it looked painful. “Don’t cut it off…”

“But—“

“Don’t!” It was a scream that time, bouncing off of the concrete walls. Sora jumped, Cloud’s jaw clenching tighter. Sora noticed the way his eyes darted towards the entrance, feeling his body start to lock up in preparation.

“Roxas, please be quiet. I know it hurts, but please. We don’t need any more bites. We’ll figure something out later. You’ll be okay; I promise. Trust me.”

The silence returned as if it weighed hundred pounds, sitting on the trio heavily as Cloud gave a nod to the bike. Sora climbed on first, laying Roxas’ sleeping bag down on the seats to give them cushion. The bike was just barely large enough for the three of them, but considering that none of them could hotwire a car, it was their only option other than walking. Sora sat on the back because he was smallest (but in his defense, he was only ten anyway) and Cloud was the driver, which left Roxas smashed up between them. It was a good thing in this situation, however, as Roxas was placed on the back and laid in his brother’s arms to be held in his human seatbelt, even if Sora’s arms were a little too tight across his chest. Cloud straddled the bike last, unbuckling the single helmet from the handlebars and handing it off to Sora, per usual. Sora was the youngest, and Sora would be the first to fall off, considering he was on the back. It made sense. It was their agreement. This time, however, Roxas took offense.

“I’m not dead yet,” he snarled, attempting to sit up straighter. His body was still heavy and lethargic despite his efforts, and he was beginning to believe that it wasn’t because of his exhaustion that he was so drained. The bite on his arm stung too much for him to contemplate any other reasons outside of his infection. The bike began to move as soon as Sora had clicked the helmet into place on his rat’s nest of hair, Roxas mostly relying on Sora to keep him on the bike at all, as his arms were too busy clinging to his chest as he tried to breathe regularly again.

The bike stopped just outside, long enough for Cloud to pick up the rifle that was lying in a puddle of zombie blood and stuff it into the saddle bags. Shifting the backpacks he carried, he re-mounted, quickly double-checked the map, and began to drive.

The city was quiet, but Cloud caught sight of a few zombies as they sped past. He was grateful that his bike was still in good enough shape that it could still reach speeds easily enough to outrun their predators, but the dents and scratches on the paint weren’t very good for his pride.

They had only been on the road for just over seven weeks now. Their parents had died forty-nine days ago, and the breakout had occurred fifty-three days ago. Cloud had been at his high school’s homecoming game with his girlfriend on a perfectly normal September night fifty-four days ago. The outbreak had literally happened overnight, and the speed at which things were progressing was horrifying, at best. The government had already stepped in to create safe zones for the general populace only a week after the outbreak started. News stations broadcast the information and nothing else, other than breaches in safe zones that were quickly being fixed. Once electricity was shut down due to abandonment of the electric plants (or zombies that ripped the wires during their stumbling), the information was harder to come by. Cloud only remembered that Midgar was a safe zone because they had received a call from their grandparents shortly after the death of their parents, urging them to come to safety. Their grandparents, however, still didn’t know that their son and daughter-in-law were both dead.

No one knew how the outbreak had even started. No one knew the cause and, subsequently, no one knew a possible cure. The only thing they knew was that bites, blood, and saliva were three things that could spread the disease. The brothers were still cautious, however, as the other possibilities for infection were unknown. It was like living in a minefield, and the aspect of finding a safe zone was one of overwhelming comfort. The distance between their home of Nibelhiem and the safe zone of Midgar had been cross-continental and on a bike, of all things. But they were getting close now—Within fifty miles, constantly getting closer.

They stopped driving around dusk, both due to the low level of gasoline and the fact that their hunger and thirst was not something they could ignore much longer.

The sign they had passed at the entrance to the town had claimed it as Kalm, and it seemed to be just that. The buildings were not large, nor was the city very big, but it had a very quaint feel to it. The architecture reminded Cloud of something Dutch, but he didn’t worry that much. The streets were all made out of cobblestone, leading right to the entrance of houses and business buildings. There weren’t many cars in the area, but there were several bikes and motorcycles parked on the sides, all very much out of date. The place was a run-down back-water town, reminding them vaguely of their own hometown. Just, with less white picket fences.

The bike was shut off in front of the quaint community’s library, the silence following the roar of the motorcycle being deafening. Cloud dismounted, staying close to the bike after drawing a long, thick blade from a handmade sheath he had attached to the side of his bike. He knew that he had to scout ahead and secure his younger brothers a hiding spot before going out to find them food, but the thought of the leaving them alone was nagging at him more than he was used to. Roxas was only half conscious, dozing on and off during the ride, but the sudden stillness was lulling him to sleep fast. Sora was still holding him up for the most part, and if they were caught, he doubted the brunette would be able to protect his brother. Sora wasn’t completely able, but the sun was fast dipping behind the horizon and the zombies were most likely grouping up already.

“Get off the bike,” he commanded softly, shoulders rolling to fix the position of the backpacks once again.

Sora blinked at him dumbly before he nodded, lightly poking Roxas in the side until the blonde got the hint. He moved stiffly as he sat up, very much aware of the hawk-like eyes on him as he shakily turned, sitting side-saddle for a moment to catch his breath and gather his will before his sneakers pressed into the cobblestone of the street.

Cloud barely dropped his sword in time to catch his brother as his knees immediately buckled, falling into Cloud’s arms and letting out a little yelp when his arm bent awkwardly. Frowning, Cloud righted him, placing him back on the seat and trying to think through his options. He didn’t want to leave the two alone, but if he had to carry Roxas, their defenses would be nonexistent. He took a deep breath and browsed the area, not seeing any movement. Momentarily satisfied, he turned to the two.

“You two wait here then. I’ll go make sure the library is clear for us to spend the night in, so it shouldn’t take too long. Just scream if something happens, alright?” _Please don’t get hurt._

Sora nodded obediently, Roxas already back in his lap and drifting again. He shot Cloud a worried look, only growing more concerned when he saw it reflected. No nod to tell him it was okay, and no half-smile to assure him that he was being stupid. He was perfectly correct in understanding that Roxas’ near future was grim, and that was if he was being optimistic about it.

The doors of the library were easily forced open with a well-placed kick, Cloud hefting the sword and entering the dark halls. Sticking a hand in his pocket, he pulled out his headlamp, tugging it over his hair and placing it on his forehead, switching on the light. The beam was weak at best, but he knew that the search for batteries would happen whenever he left to get food. Suddenly, it seemed like he had an entire grocery list. Food, ammunition, water, batteries—

He pushed his worries aside for the moment, passing the front desk and peeking behind it. Finding a business card, he picked it up, smiling to himself when he discovered that there was a map on the back of the entire town, laying out where the other library was located. Apparently, according to the little markers, it was a college town. That seemed highly unlikely due to the architecture and size of the place, but for all he knew, maybe it was some amish thing. There weren’t even any lamps inside of the building so far.

Beyond the front area, there were two halls to take. One, he found out, led to a single family bathroom and several printers in the hall. He decided to leave the bathroom door closed, not knowing if anyone had hidden in there after they had been infected. The second hall was what led to the books, and he was a little disappointed to see that there wasn’t much of a collection. The first floor was mostly children’s books with a small area off to the side with child-sized tables and chairs, coloring books and crayons neatly stacked on the surface as if no one had ever touched them. A spiral staircase sprouted from the back corner, black iron twisting into a rather elaborate design. Too elaborate for the rest of the below-par decoration, but he ignored the paintings of flowers and cartoon animals and climbed up the stairs.

The second floor was much the same as the first, although the bathrooms were separated to each gender. There were no doors, so a quick peek around the corners was enough to satisfy him that the bathrooms were empty. The paintings on the walls back in the main area were more educational than the ones on the first floor, portraying maps and period war paintings that had been re-made and hung within cheap wood frames. The tables and chairs were more abundant, and a few tables had computers on the surface that had long since ceased to operate. He had started to walk among the rows of books beyond the sitting area, taking note of the titles and recognizing a few from educational readings. An entire shelf was dedicated to nothing but Shakespeare, and the one beside it held playbooks for performances that the blond had never even heard of. Not that he was a big play guy in the first place. He supposed movies were entertaining, but even then, he had never seen that many. Roxas was the movie buff, not him.

As soon as Roxas entered his mind, Cloud’s outlook dropped. His blood felt cold, body worn and heavy. He sighed and leaned against the wall next to the shelf he had been browsing, passing a hand over his face and allowing his sword to lean against the wall as well. The only thing he could see in his mind’s eye was the horribly infected bite, the victim curled into a ball as he cried out in agony. He knew that Roxas didn’t have much time. He knew that the turning time took around three days, but the only ones he had to compare that to were older and bigger than his thirteen year old brother. They had two days, at most. That’s what he figured. They would have to leave by dawn for Midgar, but even then, nothing could be done. He knew that the only option now was to amputate. That had always been the only option, really. There was no cure, and it was either cut his arm off or shoot a bullet through his brain, and the amputation option sounded a lot more appealing. He didn’t think he could handle shooting his brother. Not after—

An ear-piercing scream caused Cloud to jump from his thoughts, grabbing the hilt of his blade and running down the twisted stairs. Flashbacks shot through his head, imagining the worst possible situation awaiting him. He expected to see his brothers surrounded by an enormous horde, getting chunks ripped out of them, blood everywhere, more screaming—

He skidded to a halt on the front steps, stumbling down them and staring around in surprise. There was a significant lack of any sort of zombie, but looking back at his brothers showed the real emergency. Roxas and Sora had fallen from the bike, the blonde convulsing on the cobblestone like he was possessed and Sora screaming at him to get a grip, unable to pull his hand away as Roxas squeezed it to the point of turning his fingers blue.

To Cloud, it was an all-too familiar scene. Roxas didn’t have much time left. Not even one more full day.

“We’re not stopping here,” he blurted, trying to be heard above the sound of Sora’s cries and Roxas’ choking and gasping. Grabbing Roxas up into his arms and holding him tight, he was relieved when the blond let go of his brother’s hand, even if it was only to grasp Cloud’s hoodie hard enough to rip a few invisible threads. Sora watched with teary eyes, mixed between fear and confusion.

“Sora, get the map out of my pocket. Tell me how far we are from Midgar.”

The brunet nodded frantically and did as he was told, careful to avoid any of Roxas’ thrashing around. His hands were shaking as he unfolded it, squinting in the light of Cloud’s headlamp to read it. The sun had long disappeared beyond the horizon, clouds moving in to cover the sky. Rain would have fit the mood, but they prayed it wouldn’t happen. At least not until they found more clothes.

“I-it’s just around ten miles down the main road,” Sora stuttered, his shaking turning into full-body tremors. He still wore the helmet, making him look ridiculously dwarfed as he gave a loud, wet sniff. He looked down at the ground when Cloud shot him a look, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

Cloud thought, well, as best as he could. Roxas’ spasms had abruptly stopped while he was holding him, the body going limp. His arms shook from the weariness of driving, coupled with the lack of food and the sudden dead weight in his arms. He had to place him back down on the ground, taking a long breath as he sorted through his thoughts. He knew that the best choice for him and Sora was to stop for the night, eat, and drink, but he couldn’t neglect Roxas. He knew that if the fits were already starting that the virus had likely spread outside of his arm and into more serious areas, it was too late to save him. But he couldn’t just _stop_. There had to be _something_ he could do.

“Sora, get my hose out of the saddlebag on the right,” he ordered, still crouching beside Roxas on the ground. “We’re going to Midgar.”

“But you said—“

“Sora!”

His shout shook the youngest down to the bone, causing him to nod deftly as he quickly retrieved the hose, handing it to his elder. He took place beside Roxas as Cloud pushed his bike to the nearest motorcycle, beginning to siphon more gas. His heart was still going a mile a minute as he switched between watching Cloud work and Roxas sleep. He checked his brother’s pulse once his wits had gathered enough, noticing how much fainter it was than it had been that morning. His breathing wasn’t much stronger, and a hand placed on his forehead proved how cold he was getting. He wasn’t sure what symptoms were bad, but he figured that the ones Roxas was having were nothing positive.

Once the bike had been filled enough, the brothers mounted with Roxas in Sora’s lap once again. The ride was much faster than it had been earlier, the deafening roar overrunning any conversation. Not that anything was said, however—Roxas was too busy being unconscious and Sora was too occupied with clinging to him and whispering prayers under his breath.

None of them were very religious. They simply hadn’t been raised in a religious household. Their parents believed in Heaven and Hell, they celebrated Christmas, but that was it. There wasn’t a Bible in their house and they had never been to church. If there really was a God out there, though, would he allow something like this to happen? Would God allow the reanimation of flesh and the destruction of so much life? Was this some kind of punishment, if there really was a God? If so, how could they atone for it?

“Don’t let Roxas die, God. Please. If you’re there… Just… Please don’t let him die… _Please._ ”

* * *

 

Their arrival at Midgar was less than ten minutes from their departure, and it was impossible to miss. The entire city was rather large, with skyscrapers piercing the dark clouds, but the whole place was lit up with search beams and flood lights, the sound of engines and generators whirring beyond barbed wire fences. The main entrance was flanked by armored cars and guards with guns and swords, the gate being at least twenty feet tall and topped with barbed wire over the chain-link. The edges of the gate were painted in yellow and black hazard patterns, the width of the thing enough to get at least two cars inside at the same time. Watchtowers flanked each side, and it was impossible to see inside due to how bright it was.

Roxas awoke again when the bike stopped, sight blurry and hearing stuffy as someone screamed at them. He blinked slowly, only registering he was moving when Cloud picked him up and shouted something back. He winced at the volume, closing his eyes once bright lights began to burn his retinas.

“Please! We need safety!”

“He infected?”

“Yeah, what’s up? He looks dead.”

“Malnutrition,” was Cloud’s quick answer, knowing that Roxas was plenty skinny under the blanket Sora had wrapped him in during the drive to pass as sickly. “Please, we need to get him to a doctor!”

“Alright, alright! Calm the fuck down!” the guard huffed, digging around in his pockets to pull out a small device that looked like a smart phone on steroids. “Calm down, Spikey. Just procedure,” he sighed, stepping within arms’ reach. “Retina scan.”

Cloud tensed, but just nodded his agreement as the soldier tapped away at the tablet, holding it up once he finished. Cloud startled when a bright green light flashed into his eyes, a high-pitched beep coming from the tablet.

“Clean,” the guard called back to the others, his shoulders finally relaxing in his military outfit as he bent down to move onto Sora. The similar process followed, Sora’s eyes already too wide with fear to really jump at the quick flash. He repeated the news back, the gate beginning to clink and clang open. Two out of three had made it, and apparently the gate took a very long time to open.

When it came to Roxas’ turn, the officer had to physically hold the blonde’s eyes open, scowling when they rolled back. Cloud noticed when the guard glanced down at the wound on Roxas’ arm, blood churning into ice when he noticed that the purple-gray texture had moved up to the joint of his elbow, reaching down to his fingers in the other direction. It was spreading _fast_ —One more day and Roxas would be gone. Maybe even less. The guard glanced up at Cloud, who remained stony-faced as Roxas came back to consciousness just in time for the green light to flash at him. He groaned at the brightness and attempted to bury deeper into the blanket, the beep that followed being much lower in pitch.

The guard seemed to be at a loss, staring at the tablet in shock. Clearly, this was out of his area of experience. He had never seen an infected, and for a few seconds, he wasn’t sure to do. There was jeering from the other guards, telling their coworker to get a damn _move_ on, but when the guard spoke, there was silence among them and the gate stopped opening.

“Infected.”

The pregnant silence was broken when a gun clicked off its safety, Cloud gripping Roxas even tighter. Sora looked like he was about to pass out, pressing closer to his brothers and clinging to the blanket that was dangling from Roxas’ trembling legs. The guard sighed and put the tablet away, pulling the rifle off of his back.

“Put him down. I don’t wanna kill you too.”

“I don’t want you to kill anyone,” Cloud replied stiffly, taking half a step back from the barrel of the gun that was only halfheartedly pointed at him. “We’ll be on our way, if you’re not going to help.”

“No one can help him. It’s either we kill him, or—“

“Cloud.”

All eyes were drawn to Roxas as he croaked out the word, tremors beginning to rattle his body again. Cloud held him tighter, looking down at him as the guard was joined by his fellows.

“Do it.”

“What?”

“You do it.”

Cloud frowned, getting the gist of what Roxas was saying. He ignored the wide eyes watching him, heading back for the bike. “No. We’ll amputate it. There’s no infected in Kalm, and we can make d—“

“Don’t be… an asshole…”

His frown deepened, placing Roxas on the bike. “Shut up. I’m not gonna kill you.”

“Do it, or they will,” he croaked, squinting eyes glancing over at the line of guards that were holding loaded rifles, leveled at the younger blond's head. “Please.”

For the second time that day, Cloud was rooted in the spot by flashbacks. But these were older, from weeks ago. The first time he had ever fired a gun, and it was at the face of someone he loved, who begged him to kill them. He understood the theory behind it, knowing that it was a comfort for them. He knew that he would rather be killed by someone he knew than a line of military guards in front of the safe zone they had been trekking cross-country for. He had just been thinking about the options he held with Roxas, and his blood was rapidly leaving his face when he realized which he needed to do.

He couldn’t even find himself to be happy that they had finally made it here.

“Cloud?” Sora mumbled, still holding onto the end of the blanket that Roxas was in. His eyes were watching his older brother closely, not liking the way his expressions were moving from distaste and anger to peaceful consideration. To the guards, Cloud looked the exact same as he did when he arrived.

“Cloud,” Roxas parroted, throat breaking as he started to lose control. The tremors were getting too rough, teeth chattering as his breath hitched and he started to gasp for air. Sora made to get close to him, but Cloud pulled him back with a hand on his shoulder. Sora gave him a frightened look while one of the guards got the hint and held out a pistol. He took it, and soon, Roxas wasn’t the only one crying.

“CLOUD!” Sora shrieked, lunging at his brother’s arm as Cloud rose the pistol. The guard that had handed the weapon over grabbed Sora by the wrist, wrapping an arm around his chest, he held him back as he began to thrash around. Tears were staining his face, his screaming overriding anything else. “No, Cloud! _Cloud!_ ”

But Cloud could read Roxas’ lips when he repeated his order.

“I love you, Roxas. I’m… I’m sorry.” His voice cracked at the last syllable as his hand began to shake, aim faltering. He didn’t want to shoot and miss, causing him more pain, so he came closer. When he got close enough, Roxas suddenly wrapped his arms around his brother’s torso, sobbing heavily into his shirt.

“Kill me, please. P-please, Cloud, I don’t wanna turn! Fuckin’ k-kill me! Just do it! _Please!_ ”

Cloud’s eyes began tearing up too much, settling the barrel of the pistol against Roxas’ temple. He sighed, burying his nose into the other’s hair and inhaling. He smelled horrible, but that was what happened when you didn’t take a shower in a month and a half. But he still smelled like _Roxas._

“I’m so sorry, Roxas…”

The trigger pulled, the gun shot, blood splattered, and Sora was reduced to screams so loud that they were silent. Cloud didn’t let go of the hold he had, but the guard took his gun back.

“We can fill out citizen papers for you inside, whenever you’re ready.”

“Just… give us a minute.” Cloud was trying to stop shaking, trying to get himself to stop crying, trying to get himself to _let go_ …

The guard diliberated, looking amongst his coworkers until one of them just settled to give a shrug. He sighed beneath the helmet, turning back to the pair. “Fine. We don’t have all night.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“And the munchkin?”

“He’s ten. He’s not a—”

“You guys have any relatives here?”

“…Yes.”

“Good. I don’t wanna send you into foster care after what you just went through.” The man across the desk sighed out a long breath, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the metal table between them. He was dressed much more casual than the guards out front, wearing a black suit with the white shirt untucked, tie discarded somewhere. His hair was what shocked the boys, being a vibrant red that stuck out in every direction, only tamed when it led into a long rat-tail that he was practically sitting on. He looked exhausted, but so did the two kids he was interrogating. It was, after all, nearing two in the morning.

Cloud and Sora had spent a great deal grieving in the waiting room of the small office, taking hours to calm themselves enough to enter the room. They were filling out sheets for their personal information, but Sora only knew what his name and birthdate were. Cloud was filling the rest out as the redhead attempted small talk.

“Who’re ya related to?”

“Our grandparents,” Sora chipped in, hoping that was useful.

“No shit, yo.”

“Watch your language.”

 _You never told Roxas to watch his language._ But Sora stayed silent, knowing that was the best option.

“Their names are Claudia and Harold Strife,” he supplied in clipped tones once Sora had settled, scribbling out the blank for Sora’s social security number before he handed the papers back. “They lived near the outskirts of the city, so—“

“Ain’t no outskirts anymore, yo,” the man drawled, lazily looking over the paperwork as he spoke. “That place was the first infected. We had t’ extermina—Wait, ya dunno your social security numbers?”

Cloud was suddenly at the front of his chair, hands on the table and gripping it hard. Sora looked like he was about to faint which, really, wasn’t much of a change.

“What did you say?” he asked slowly, ice coating each of his words as he slowly stood, watching the man blink owlishy up at him before looking at the papers, as if they held the answer.

“Social security numbers…?”

Cloud’s hand slammed on the table, causing a loud metallic _clang_ to echo around the cement room as he rocketed to his feet, leaning forward to get right into the redhead’s face. “About my _grandparents_ , you asshat!”

Another blink and a soft laugh was all he got, watching a hand come forward to retrieve his pen. “Asshat, huh? That’s a new one.”

The table creaked as more pressure was added, Cloud looking as if he was about to flip the damn thing. His muscles and veins bulged out in fury, teeth shut so tight that Sora could practically _hear_ them grinding. The man across the table seemed completely unfazed, writing a few things on the papers before leaning over to stuff them in his briefcase. Cloud looked about ready to have an aneurysm.

“Cloud,” Sora ventured, gently tugging on his brother’s sleeve. He didn’t like it when Cloud got angry, namely because it was a rare occurrence. Besides, he was worried for the other’s health. The lack of appropriate food, water, and rest was clearly wearing on his older brother, and he knew it was because Cloud simply put his brothers first. He always had, and he always would. But now, brothers had been reduced to just brother. Their broken family was smaller, and Sora was still trying not to cry. The moment was so etched in his mind, and it seemed so foreign to him that his brother was _dead_. Gone. Never coming back. All he had left now was Cloud, and maybe that was all. If their grandparents really were…

“Look, you two have had a long night,” the man finally concluded, standing up and gathering his things as Cloud relaxed, focusing on suspicious red hair as Sora quietly tried to hold his hand. “You can spend tonight at the inn, free of charge, but you’ll have to meet here with me again tomorrow to discuss where you’ll be living. Midgar’s a big ass city, but even just two immigrants is a lot to make room for. Can’t garuntee it’ll be cozy, but…” He shrugged, moving around the table and to the door. He opened it, pausing in the doorway to look over at the brothers. “I’ll come getcha when it’s time for the meeting, yo. For now, just head out to the inn across the street. Tell ‘em Reno sent ya and you’ll get a room. Got it?”

The door remained open as Reno took his leave, two sets of identical blue eyes staring into the waiting room as if expecting something more. As if expecting Roxas to walk through, carrying a bag of food with him and toting a few new scratches.

Sora was the first to move, legs shaking as he shuffled towards the door, tugging Cloud’s hand. He opened his mouth to speak, only finding that nothing came out. His eyes were watering, but he quickly wiped at them to hide it. He couldn’t hide the little sniffle though, and he hiccupped in surprise when he felt Cloud hugging him.

“I’m sorry, Sora… Let’s just… Let’s get sleep. Okay? It’ll be okay.”

_Okay._

 

That was fast becoming his mantra.

* * *

 

Their room at the inn was small, but much more spacious and luxurious than their recent sleeping adventures. Sora would have been bouncing on the bed by now, but he felt weighed down. He was already sobbing by the time they made it to the room, riding on Cloud’s back as they came in. Their backpacks were on the floor, along with the saddlebags. Cloud’s bike was being held in the military garage, but he wasn’t too worried about it. He was more worried with what had just happened.

He felt numb to the whole thing, after he had shed his tears. He had simply allowed Roxas’ body to be taken from his arms, watching a guard carry it off to throw it into an incinerator. Sora had collapsed on the ground by that point, and Cloud was glad that he at least didn’t see where his brother had ended up. Now, as he slipped into bed next to his still-sobbing brother, he wondered if this made him a murderer. His own brother was dead by his hand, after getting bit because he hadn’t been fast enough to save him. He had underestimated the zombies at the time, and now he was paying the price for that.

Needless to say, Cloud didn’t get any sleep that night.

They were greeted bright and early by the innkeeper, who only gave them sympathetic smiles before placing a tray of food on their bedside table and slipping back out again. They picked at the meal, which only consisted of bread and jam (but was better than canned beans any day) and they drank a bit of their water before Sora started up the waterworks again, clinging to Cloud under the covers. He fell asleep a few hours into it, giving Cloud access to slide out without disturbing him. The bit of his mind that wasn’t tied up in what had happened was reminding him that their room had plumbing, which meant a working toilet and a real _shower_.

There was no soap, but the feel of water on his bare skin was a blessing. The water was icy cold with no way to heat it up, but it was better than nothing. It washed away the dirt, the blood, and the bits of skull and brain that had gotten stuck in his hair. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the urge to cry at the discovery. He only watched it swirl down the hole in the floor, the numbness taking root in his stomach and making him want to throw up. He wanted to vomit, as if that would get rid of the pain. He wanted to get rid of the guilt, the loss, the pain, _everything_. He wanted everything to stop. He wanted to wake the hell _up_ already.

Somehow, he managed to get himself out of the shower. He dried his skin and wrapped the complimentary (and scratchy) towel around his waist as he re-entered the bedroom, noticing for the first time that there were fresh clothes neatly piled on top of the dresser. It was no more than a white t-shirt and a pair of black sweats (two sets, for both of them) but it was enough for him. He pulled them on, sitting at the foot of the bed afterwards to inspect the gash on his arm, which he had gotten from shoving his brothers into the parking garage in order to keep them safe. Anything to keep his brothers safe. _Anything_.

He wished he was dead rather than Roxas.

The cocky part of him wanted to argue that and say that they couldn’t live without him, but that seemed like a moot point if Cloud ended up alone. He knew that they were relatively safe now, being inside a government quarantine, but the aspect of foster care was putting more weights on Cloud’s shoulders than he could even carry. He couldn’t even process everything at the moment. All he knew was that Roxas was dead, Sora was a mess, they were in Midgar, their grandparents were apparently dead, there was no water heater, and he felt like he was going to be facing the real end of the world tomorrow.

 

But for now, all he wanted was sleep. So that was exactly what he did.

Reno seemed to have had a change of heart. He didn’t come to get the brothers that day, leaving them to lay in bed. All they really did was sleep, cry, and try to piece things together. (Well, Sora cried while Cloud tried to piece things together.) Cloud had finalized his rational thinking by knowing that it was his fault Roxas was dead, and Sora couldn’t bring himself to blame anyone. It was just fate, he figured. Fate didn’t like their family very much.

The next day was just as uneventful as the first, and the innkeeper still brought them a light breakfast and a slab of meat and bread for dinner. Cloud was vaguely starting to wonder what the hold-up was, or if Reno had actually _grown_ a heart to change with. Maybe he was giving the boys room to grieve, but their grieving was nothing of the productive sort. They just hung out in their room most of the time, sleeping or crying or trying to sleep. It was a boring couple days, and it wasn’t until the fourth had passed that Reno appeared.

He stood at their proverbial doorstep at ten o’clock on the dot, just as the brothers were finishing their oatmeal breakfast. He gave them a small smile before he stepped in, dropping the suitcase on the second unused bed. He sat on the edge, watching them silently. Silent was odd for Reno, but he wasn’t sure what to think. It wasn’t often that people actually survived enough to get into the city, and this was Reno’s first case. He had to help out two brothers that had recently lost their third, and both of them looked like they were wasting away to hunger and depression.

“Sorry I left you guys alone. I figured you needed time t’ collect your thoughts.”

Sora only buried further under the blankets, Cloud shrugging as he shut the door. “Thanks for being polite.”

“No problem. It ain’t in my job description, but I figured I’d cut ya slack.” He paused, gauging the blank reactions he was getting. Cloud seemed even more lifeless as he did the previous days, eyes dull and body sagging. He was just a shell now. And Sora? Hell, he couldn’t even see the kid, so what did it matter? “Anyway, I gotta clear up some things.”

“Yeah,” came the muttered response, Cloud joining his brother on the bed, feet on the floor and facing the redhead. “Just… be straight with me.”

He nodded, pulling a sheet out of his briefcase to double-check his facts. “We looked into the names of the people you gave us. They’re dead. They weren’t infected, but they were killed by those that were.” Glancing back up, he was startled to see the exact same expression on the blond’s face. Numbness. Nothing but hollow, empty numbness. Sighing, he pulled out a manila folder, flipping through it. “The foster home figured that it would be even worse to separate you guys, so you’ll be moving to the same house. Yer also getting professional shrinks t’ help ya with—“

“We don’t need psychologists.”

Reno raised an eyebrow, looking at him from over the papers. “Says the kid that looks like he’s dead.”

“I’m not a kid. I’ve been through worse, and I’ll live. I don’t need—”

“You’re traumatized and you need a shrink,” he said finitely, not wanting to argue the point with someone that could maintain such an empty expression so easily. It was unsettling. “Anyway—“ His eyes traveled back to the papers he was holding, shifting them around to find what he needed. “You’ll be moving in tomorrow with your foster mother—“

“Don’t we get to pick?”

Ignoring the blond’s interruption, Reno continued. “—You’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning, so get your stuff together by tonight. I’ll be driving you there, since the house’s over in Sector Six. They got a kid living with ‘em already, but I’m mostly sending you there t’ help out, yo. You’re almost eighteen, so it’s not like we gotta worry about bumping you around homes. Once you hit your birthday though, you can pick if you wanna stay—Fuck it, you’ll learn more about that later.” A little more shuffling of papers before he settled on the last one. “Oh, right. You guys have to have a physical done—“

“Why?”

Glaring over the papers, Reno was already starting to get tired of the interruptions. “Because ya look like a buncha skeletons, yo.”

Any argument Cloud could have come up with died in his throat as Reno stuffed the papers back, standing up and leaving his briefcase as he headed for the door. “C’mon. The sooner we get the examination over, the sooner you can return to yer _thrilling_ day.”

Sora finally peeked out from under the blankets, frowning. “We have to leave…?”

“It won’t take long,” Reno muttered impatiently, opening the door and waiting for them to go through. “An hour, tops.”

Reno was a liar.

The walk to the doctor’s office alone was almost twenty minutes, considering all of the stair climbing and waiting around for the doctor. Once it started, the nurses tried to get Cloud back in a room by himself, but Sora was perpetually glued to his side at this point. And so, they were both shuffled into the room, Cloud staring around a bit in surprise. It looked like a perfectly normal hospital room, complete with machinery and that weird sterile smell. It was almost as if he expected it to be in ruins, like everything else in the world was. It seemed surreal to be somewhere sane, and they couldn’t wrap their minds around the fact that they were truly _safe_. Or, at least, as safe as they could be.

They perched on the stiff hospital bed together, the paper sheets beneath them crunching under the weight. Cloud’s hands were neatly folded in his lap, eyes studying intensely at his thumbs as Sora held onto the excess material of his sweatpants, making sure Cloud didn’t get away from him. The walls were a pale beige, the floor being tiled perfectly white. There were a few faint stains on the linoleum, but Cloud didn’t want to look to into it. He would rather think that the faded red was from a jello packet rather than a drop of blood. There was a single window in the room, but it was mostly covered by an enormous piece of equipment that doubled as a heart monitor, blood pressure gauge, and blood bag station.

Sora had never liked doctors. He simply never had. Whether it was a childish fear or not, he didn’t like any sort of appointment he needed, including just a drive to the dentist. His lack of any sort of fear was sending up little warning’s in Cloud’s mind, knowing that something was off as his brother simply stared out of the window (as much as he could) at the heavy industrial city below them. His face was blank, body completely stiff as his fingers clung with white-knuckled tightness to the scrap of fabric hanging loose around his brother’s thigh.

Midgar was a very dull city. Cloud hadn’t seen a single tree inside of the enormous gate, and he had yet to even see _grass_. Everything was made of steel, iron, or cement, and the only plants he had seen were little plastic ones in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. It made the brothers uncomfortable, considering the rather rural area they had come from. Sure, they had lived in a suburb, but they had been nestled into a valley that was lush with trees, grass, and other countless flora. The shift from a picture-perfect valley to a world in ruin was one thing, but moving from that ruin to something so constructed that it seemed futuristic was another cold slap to the face.

They had been to see their grandparents once before, when Cloud was only five and Sora hadn’t even been conceived yet. Cloud didn’t remember much, but he knew he would have recognized all of the metal. Then again, his parents had lived on the outskirts of the city. He wished he had been paying more attention to his surroundings when they had been just outside the gate, wondering if the outskirts were even _there_ anymore, or if they had been demolished to rid the area of infection. He didn’t know, and it didn’t bode well with him to dwell on it.

It was another twenty minutes before a short, stocky nurse came in, shuffling her feet and causing the brothers to glance at each other when they realized how elderly she was. Her back was hunched, frame dwarfed by an oversized lab coat. A stethoscope hung around her neck along with a pair of rather large glasses, which were held up by a beaded necklace. Her hair was nothing but a white cloud, wisps of almost-pink rooting at the ends where it was pulled back into a bun, as if she had been daring enough a few years ago for that old lady pastel poodle look. Cloud was unsure if she was even their doctor until she put the glasses on, setting down a folder of charts before she turned to face them, arms folding across her deflated chest.

“You two have had quite the journey,” she stated, voice creaky and rasped with her age, yet tone staying sweet and oddly high-pitched. She must have been a grandmother, to have that kind of smile that bunched up all her face-wrinkles around her shockingly clear gray eyes. She seemed to be in perfect health, outside of the obvious aging she had done. When she didn’t get a response, she kept her smile, crossing over to take a look at Cloud first, peering out from behind her glasses. “I’m surprised you two made it in such good health. Granted, I still have all the routine tests to perform on you, but you’re able to walk on your own. That’s better than most of what I see come through here.”

Cloud didn’t even want to think about the others that had come by. He didn’t want to think of the pain.

Sighing, the old woman turned back to flip the folder open, separating the papers Sora and Cloud had filled out earlier. “We weren’t able to find any of your medical history. You wrote that you came from Nibelhiem, which leaves it to no wonder. Nibelhiem isn’t fond of using computers for everything. That isn’t a problem, but it just means that you’ll have to be here a bit longer. I need to fill out this for both of you.” Turning around, the nurse showed them a packet that was a good five pages long, the font so tiny that it was any wonder that the woman needed glasses. “But before we start, I should introduce myself. My formal name is Doctor Mogettenan, but you can call me Mog. I understand the name is a little hard to pronounce.” She laughed then, a light sound that at least got Sora to relax.

Picking up a clipboard, she fastened the packet to it and pulled a pen from one of her pockets. “Which of you boys wants to go first? You can both stay in here, so don’t worry about being separated.” Her eyes flicked to where Sora’s fingers were clenched, getting a sheepish smile from the child. Sora didn’t move to offer, however, his fear of doctors beginning to slowly trickle back. He glanced over at Cloud, sending him a pleading look before his brother sighed, managing the faintest smile before Sora gratefully looked back out the window.

“I will,” Cloud mumbled, gently pushing Sora’s hand away as he stood up at Mog’s wave of a pen, noticing how much he towered over the tiny woman. He felt a little awkward as she put the clipboard down, needing to stand on her tip-toes to press her icy stethoscope over Cloud’s heart. He thanked the fact that his t-shirt was thick enough that he couldn’t feel it, but he still shivered.

“Take a deep breath, please.”

He did as he was told, staring above the woman’s head to look at the wall. She pressed the cold little pad around until she had listened to everything she wanted, scribbling some things down on her pad before there was another wave of the pen, instructing him to sit back down. Mog was suddenly shuffling around much faster, eyes focused on her work. She took Cloud’s blood pressure and stuck a thermometer under his tongue to take his temperature. Once all of the basics seemed to be out of the way, Mog was digging through cupboards to find gauze and bandages, shuffling back over to the blond.

“How long have you had this wound?” she asked gently, beginning to unwrap the cover that Cloud had put on his arm. She squinted at it over her glasses once it was revealed, making a face at the smell and color of the scratch.

“A week,” he admitted, needing to think about the time. Everything seemed to have blurred together, but he assumed a week was the right answer because Mog nodded sagely at him.

“Have you had a tetanus shot?”

He blinked before nodding slowly. “I did when I was little, I think.”

“Have you experienced muscle spasms, difficulty swallowing, stiffness in your neck, or a recent fever?”

“N-no,” he stammered, confused by the sudden questions.

“Good. Then it should fix right up! This might sting a little,” she chirped, grabbing bottles that Cloud couldn’t read before she was dabbing at the wound with a cotton ball.

 _Sting a little_ was the biggest lie in the medical business.

Cloud’s hands curled into fists, sucking in a sharp gasp through his teeth as Mog liberally spread the liquid, holding his wrist in her cold hands with a surprisingly tight grasp. She grabbed up a cream next, but Cloud was prepared for the pain when it made contact with the puffy yellow skin. Once she was satisfied, she re-wrapped it in medical tape and gauze, patting the back of his hand softly when she finished.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Sora didn’t seem to look much less fearful, staring at his brother curiously. Cloud just shook his head, watching her make note of the injury on the packet. She clicked her tongue, muttering a few things under her breath as she looked through the list.

“Will you take your clothes off for me? Just the shirt and pants. If you want, we have gowns.”

Cloud blinked, a little confused at the sudden request. He didn’t know what she possibly needed him almost-naked for, but she _was_ the doctor. Besides, it wasn’t like Sora was uncomfortable with him naked. They were brothers and they had been taking river baths together for the past fifty-odd days.

Cloud stripped down to his briefs obediently, sitting back on the bed when he finished. Sora took it upon himself to hold his brother’s clothes, playing with a loose string on the collar of his shirt. Mog seemed pleased, rooting around before pulling out a small rubber hammer to test the blond’s reflexes. She scribbled more things in her work as she moved on to listen to his heart and lungs one more time, keeping him sitting as she quickly looked over him.

There were small scratches here and there that were already on the fast road to recovery, nothing being nearly as injured as his arm. Bruises were very common, however, especially on his knees and elbows. She didn’t question though, knowing that they weren’t that serious and there were hundreds of excuses for them to be there. Cloud was instructed to stand after the visual check, bending down to touch his toes as Mog inspected his spine. More notes and old fingers feeling his muscles to make sure all was well and Cloud was sat back, the woman smiling at him softly.

“All that’s left is a blood sample and we can move onto you,” the doctor announced to Sora, giggling a little as the boy sank back in on himself. Cloud tried to give him a smile as Mog prepared his arm for the needle, but it was forced.

It was always going to be forced.

Sora’s check-up went quicker than Cloud’s, Mog knowing his fear and wanting to make it fast and painless. Two bottles of blood were sat aside and band-aids were placed on the pinholes, Sora poking at his numbly. Mog finished filling out their paperwork as much as she could, scribbling on a prescription pad before tearing off the little sheet and handing it to Cloud, who took it in confusion.

“What’s this for?”

Leaning over, Mog’s little sausage finger pointed at the lines as she explained her illegible scrawl. “This right here will help you fight off the infection you have on your arm. This is a vitamin the both of you need, and these are protein pills. Both of you boys are in good enough health, but you still need room for improvement,” she informed, stepping back and putting her hands in the pockets of her little white coat. “The pharmacy is on the first floor of this building—You can’t miss it!”

Cloud nodded sagely as he slipped off the examination table, toeing his way back into his boots as Sora hopped down as well, fidgeting with himself.

“C-can we leave now?” he squeaked uncertainly, half hidden behind his brother. He relaxed when Mog gave him a small nod, eagerly going to the door and bouncing in his impatience as Cloud laced up his boots.

Outside of the small room, the waiting room with all its plastic plants was waiting for them. Cloud noticed Reno’s hair immediately, the man leaning on the receptionist’s desk and smirking as she blushed and tried to get his elbow off the table. There were three new people in the room, huddled in the chairs with blank expressions as they stared at the floor. Two boys and a girl, all looking to be Sora’s age or older, but none over thirteen. No adult within sight. For some reason, that fact weighed heavily on Cloud’s shoulders and, for a minute, he had the urge to come forward and take the kids with him. He didn’t like the idea of anyone so young being alone in a place like Midgar, but… He didn’t really have much say in matter. He was, after all, in the same position. Wasn’t he?

Reno noticed the brothers before Cloud could think too much, giving up his position with the nurse behind the desk and strolling over to them, stuffing a business card in his chest pocket as he came. “You two done?” His eyes traveled down to the prescription slip in Cloud’s hand, holding out fingers for it. “I’ll run down to the pharmacy to get your meds for ya. You don’t happen to have any money or insurance cards, do you?” He smirked when Cloud just blinked at him, shaking his head. “Didn’t think so. You two head back and get your shit together. I’ll be back over with this and some more paperwork for you two. We’re leavin’ a bit early—Bus departs at seven. Change in schedule, yo.” Snatching the paper when Cloud didn’t hand it over, the man gave a small wave of his hand before stepping over to the three children, squatting in front of them and speaking in an unnaturally soft voice.

Cloud wanted to eavesdrop, to know why the girl had started to cry. The blond boy was looking numbly at his hands, and the other boy was looking at Reno with maturity far beyond his years. As if he had been through this before. As if the cuts and scrapes and bruises covering his sun-tanned skin were normal. Even his hair, which was bleached-white and other-worldly, was stained with blood and dirt, but that didn’t seem to bother him at all.

 

Sora was the one to snap him out of it that time, tugging impatiently on Cloud’s shirt and pulling him towards the door. Cloud followed his brother’s lead silently, but not without making eye contact with the white-haired boy and picturing Roxas sitting there, looking at him with such maturity and peace behind his eyes. The guilt, of course, was not far behind.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sora didn’t like it when Cloud was quiet. Cloud was antisocial by nature, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was _quiet_. Cloud only got quiet when he was angry or otherwise upset. The last time he had been _this_ quiet had been when their parents died. When Tifa died. When they realized the three of them were on their own, and they had nowhere to go. But now the three was down to two, and Sora didn’t know what to think anymore.

Once they had gotten back to the hotel room, Cloud had disappeared into the bathroom without a word. Sora was left to pull the backpacks onto their shared bed, going through the supplies that they wouldn’t need anymore. He put the canned goods in the trash can with a note of satisfaction, glad they wouldn’t have to survive on creamed corn and baked beans any longer, even if the food at the inn was leaving something to be desired. He also took a bit of victory in tossing out their roadmaps and old grocery lists, growing more and more pleased with himself. It was finally beginning to sink in that they were _safe_. There were no zombies in Midgar. Only men in rumpled suits that smelled like cigarette smoke and innkeepers that gave him cookies when he gave them puppy eyes. He had been getting great sleep on goose down pillows, and he had even taken a few hot showers since their arrival. It wasn’t as luxurious as home had once been, but compared to parking structures and alleyways, this was heaven.

His mood abruptly dropped, however, when his sorting hands had moved on to Roxas’ backpack.

He started to shake as he unzipped it, sorting through all of the first aid supplies Roxas had managed to gather that they hadn’t added to the main pack yet. Cloud had already gotten the toothbrushes and paste out, but there was still floss, gauze, band-aids, and all sorts of other items. Sora carefully moved all of it to the first aid pile he had created, surprised at what else he found. He found a few extra cans of food, dumping those in the trash can with the others. Beyond that were a few maps that Roxas had opted to store, a couple empty water bottles, a Swiss Army Knife, and a notebook. The notebook was what Sora stopped with, eyebrows scrunching as he crossed his legs under him to flip through the pages.

Sora never knew that his brother was an artist.

Granted, he wasn’t a very good one, but the little sketches were distinct shapes. The pencil he had been using was tucked into the metal spiral binding, worn down to almost a nub. A smoky tree here, a fire there, a zombie getting its head blown off, Cloud’s hair and the various deadly capabilities of it… It wasn’t until the pictures stopped and words started that Sora’s eyesight got blurry. He tried to read the writing, but the pencil was too dull for Roxas’ chicken scratch and it was barely legible. It seemed to be a diary of sorts, but rather bland. _We stayed in a hotel lobby tonight._ The next page described a feast of spam and canned peaches. The entries were no more than a few sentences, until Sora reached the last entry. That one got him to cry full out.

_I don’t think I’m going to stick around much longer. Cloud and Sora don’t need my help. Cloud doesn’t need anyone’s help, really, but Sora’s always so positive. I just sit there and bitch and moan all the time. I don’t really see the point of all this. We’re going to die. Midgar is way too far away. We’ll get eaten before we get there. I don’t want to be eaten alive. I would rather bite the bullet than have those disgusting freaks eat me alive. I’ll wait though. I want to be able to say my goodbyes and all that shit. Sora would kill me if I didn’t say goodbye to him. Cloud would just all pissy and quiet. I can’t read him half the time. I’m worried more about Sora. Sometimes I think he could learn a thing or two about quiet from Cloud. But none of that matters anyway. We’re dead. It doesn’t matter. Nothing does._

_I’m done with this._

The bathroom door opened, letting steam out as Cloud stepped into the bedroom. He frowned at Sora’s form, not noticing the notebook he was hunched over. He quietly got dressed in his old sweatshirt and jeans, ignoring the blood and gray matter stains the best he could. He left the complimentary clothes folded neatly on top of the dresser where they had first been placed, staring blankly at the material as Sora’s sobs continued to echo around the small room. Half of him wanted Reno to come in just to be a distraction, but the other half wanted to crawl into bed and help soothe his brother.

He opted for neither of those options, speaking quietly down at his feet.

“Do you hate me?”

There was a loud sniffle and a hiccup as Sora forced himself to stop crying, sitting up straighter and staring at Cloud’s back in shock. He could practically see the tension in the other’s shoulders, the way he clenched his fists looking painful. He was confused by the question, and Cloud’s state was scaring him. Was he shaking…?

“No,” he squeaked, tempted to crawl off of the bed and hug his elder brother. But Cloud didn’t like physical contact unless he was the one to initiate it, so he held back. “What are you talking ab—“

“I shot Roxas. I _killed_ him. He’s dead because of me. Because I wasn’t fast enough to protect him. Because I let him be stubborn and didn’t have the guts to amputate the bite when I had the chance. He’s dead, Sora, and it’s all because of me. Why aren’t you angry? You should be pissed at me!” He finally turned to face his brother, Sora stiffening when he saw how red his eyes were, puffy with tears. He looked like he was falling apart, and that was what scared Sora the most. Cloud didn’t show emotion. It wasn’t like him at _all_.

“Hit me! Fucking punch me! Kill me too! Sora, I killed our _brother_! I killed him! Why aren’t you angry?”

“You’re scaring me, Cloud…”

“I should be! You watched me fucking blow his brains out! This is his blood! It’s on my clothes, it’s on my hands—It won’t come off! It’s never going to come off!”

“Cloud,” Sora ventured again, his voice quiet as he hugged the notebook closer to his chest. He didn’t blame his brother. He couldn’t. Cloud had only done what was right. Roxas had asked him to kill him. He was upset that Roxas was dead, but he couldn’t blame Cloud for it. Cloud, who had always done what was best for them. Cloud, who loved them, even if he doubted himself. Roxas’ death was fate, as he saw it. Just like the death of their parents. And if Roxas’ small journal entries were anything to go by, he _wanted_ to die. Cloud had merely fulfilled his wish. There was no reason for anyone to be blamed other than Roxas or the zombie who bit him in the first place.

“Stop. Just _stop_ , Sora!”

“I can’t hate you!” His voice finally raised, his frustration with Cloud’s attitude breaking through his fear. “It’s not your fault! Why can’t you see that? It happened! That’s it! We’re doomed to die or something! I dunno, but I can’t hate you! You’re all I have left!” The sobs were back, raking through his frail frame. He shoved the notebook forward on the bed before he curled into a ball, burying his face in his knees.

Cloud finally fell quiet, looking down at his brother as more guilt slammed into his chest. He made Sora cry. Well, more than he had been. He was being so _stupid_ …

He made it half a step forward before there was a hesitant knock at the door, causing the blond to jump in surprise. He scrubbed at his face to rid himself the signs of his tears before he answered, seeing a rather uncomfortable Reno on the other side with a rumpled paper bag in one hand and his briefcase in the other.

“I’d come back later, but we’re on a tight schedule.”

Cloud sighed and stepped over to the bed, sitting on the edge farthest from Sora, who was still crying without a care that their moment had been interrupted by the redhead. The paper bag was tossed to the blond, who caught it in confusion as Reno began pulling packets of paper from his briefcase. Not getting an answer, he opted to open it himself, surprised at the contents.

“What’s this for?”

“To tie you over. The bus ride’s four hours on a good day. Yer meds are at the bottom o’ that, too.” Flipping through the pages, he scowled and sat them on the dresser. “You wanna fill this shit out here, or at my office?”

Still looking at the sloppily wrapped sandwiches, Cloud ignored the question. He pulled out the pill bottles from the bottom, reading the labels and frowning. “This is only a two week supply…”

“Rations. You wanna do the paper—“

“What do you mean, rations? You give us a bag full of food, but only half the pills we need? With no refills?”

“Y’ain’t gonna die. Mog prescribes the same thing t’ every one of her patients. We’re on short supply.”

“Midgar has only been a safe zone for less than a month. How are you running out of things so easily?”

The redhead sighed, passing a hand through his matted hair. “Look, ya wanna get to your house or not? Just fill out the damn paperwork. I’ll be back around six to pick y’up for the bus.” Giving Cloud a light glare, the man closed his briefcase and left, the door slamming a bit harder than it should have and making Sora’s balled-up form twitch at the violence behind the action.

Silence lapsed over the brothers, Sora’s sniffling breaking it every few seconds. Cloud was still reading over the pill labels, a cold stone settling in his gut. If Midgar was already facing shortages of medicine, what would that mean for the food supply? For such a large metropolitan city, Midgar didn’t seem very self-sustaining. There were no farms, no ranches, and as far as Cloud knew, no medical factories either. There was an electric power plant that towered over the entire city, but that was all they had to their name. Hot water and generators. It wasn’t very reassuring.

Sora moved after a few minutes, glancing at the clock and realizing that they had more than enough time to finish the paperwork by six. Giving a wary look to his brother’s back, he found a small reassurance in the fact that Cloud had seemed to calm. He wasn’t as angry, though he was still tense. As he had every reason to be.

The brunet slipped out of bed, quietly gathering the layers of shirts and his jeans before scooting into the bathroom to take a shower himself. He still wasn’t sure what to say to Cloud, or even if the situation had calmed at all, but he needed to relax first. Hot showers did the trick for him, even if he ended up standing in the spray with his mind flying so fast that he couldn’t even comprehend. He felt scared, worried, tired, sad, and every other negative emotion in the book. He just wanted to go home, get a hug from Dad, and eat a plate of warm cookies that Mom had made while he was in school. He wanted a tall glass of milk that the cat tried to steal from him, and a TV blaring Looney Tunes while Roxas played around on his phone. Roxas would say that cartoons were too childish, but he would always end up watching them and laughing along with his brother.

It hurt for Sora to realize that all of that was gone now. It seemed so surreal, but it had been over a month now, and he was slowly beginning to realize that this nightmare was anything but. This was reality now. His parents were dead. His friends, too. Roxas was gone. Their grandparents had been murdered by their own city. It was just Sora and Cloud now, but he was slipping into Roxas’ train of thought. Even if they were safe now, what happened when resources dried up? Reno had mentioned rations. What happened if the rations ran out? Sora knew that he needed the most attention, the most care. He was the youngest. Cloud had always had to take care of him. He was so _dependent_. What happened if there was no one left to depend on?

Children just weren’t built to survive the apocalypse.

* * *

 

The hours passed slowly in the small hotel room as the brothers managed to get all of their belongings into one bag. Their weapons had been confiscated at the gate, making their load light. They brought Roxas’ notebook, which Cloud refused to read with Sora around, a few DVDs that were also in the blond’s bag, maps, water bottles, and the sack of food and medicine that Reno had dropped off. They had opted to sit on the floor as they started going through the paperwork the man had left behind, Cloud filling out a majority of it while Sora played with the paperclips and stared at the industrial carpeting. They didn’t say much, unless one of them had a question pertaining to their current work, but Cloud was okay with that.

He wasn’t proud of his earlier breakdown. He was surprised, of course, that Sora seemed so forgiving of him, even if he didn’t believe him entirely. He blamed it on the fact that Sora was too young to fully understand the gravity of their situation, but that was just fine with him. Sora would understand someday, and when he did, perhaps then his anger would come forth. Maybe it just hadn’t sunk in yet that Roxas was dead, or maybe the brunet was spending too much time wallowing in sadness and counting the ceiling tiles to really allow himself the moment of clarity. Cloud killed Roxas. That was all there was to understand.

Their work was completed around five o’clock, the two of them nibbling on the bread that the innkeeper had dropped off for them. Cloud bent the paperclips back into place and put the papers back in order, a note of pride in himself that they had been able to get through it all without needing help. Sora, on the other hand, was starting to let his mind wander. The paperwork was about the home they would be staying in, whether they agreed to the conditions of living there with the chance of being adopted, and submitting themselves to all sorts of psychological testing.

He didn’t want to be adopted. Cloud would be turning eighteen in a few months, but Sora was still a minor. He would be eleven in the spring, but that meant very little to their current situation. He was being put into the foster care system, whether he wanted to be or not. Part of him was excited, however, at the prospect of an actual _home_. The names of the caregivers had been listed on the first page, and both the brothers had their opinions on Mr. Zack Fair and Ms. Aerith Gainsborough. They didn’t know their ages, and Sora was left with the image of two elderly folks while Cloud considered the possibility of a new couple that wanted to run a foster home because they couldn’t have any children of their own. Their titles didn’t suggest any relationship between the two, but imagining their future home was the best way to pass the time.

“Reno mentioned that there’s already a kid there… Do you think they’re around my age?”

“You’re probably closer to their age than I am. You’re still a kid, yanno.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s true. In eight years, you won’t be.”

“At least I’m not an old man, like you are!”

“Ouch, Sora.”

He giggled, the previous tension flying away at the sound. He crawled onto the bed and flopped onto it belly-first, grabbing for another piece of bread on the bedside table. “You didn’t deny it!”

“Yeah, well, respect your elders at least,” he grumbled, standing up with a bit of difficulty before putting the papers neatly on the dresser, next to their folded clothes. “Are you ready for the bus ride?”

And just like that, the tension had returned.

They were safe from zombies. That was absolute fact that they could not deny. They were inside a place that was completely cleaned of the virus, they had medication, they had food, and they had beds and hot water for their showers. Hell, Cloud had even been able to shave. (Not that his adolescent beard had been overly cumbersome—The blonde hairs were barely even noticeable when he _did_ let them grow out.) They were safe from zombies and guns, but now their fear rest in another devil’s hands. They were at the complete mercy to the government and their binding paperwork, leaving them to wonder if they would ever have a choice in anything.

“I guess,” he mumbled around a bite of bread, picking at the crust with his fingers. He didn’t look up as Cloud went back into the bathroom, doing another check to make sure that they had everything. “Do you think we’ll be okay?”

Cloud came out of the bathroom at the question, sitting on the bed and swinging his legs up to cross them, sitting next to his brother. “We’ll be fine. Reno mentioned that I would be helping out and working, so maybe you can too. There should be a way to make sure you don’t get separated from me. They can’t be that heartless.”

“But what if this doesn’t work…?”

Cloud frowned, watching his brother swallow his bread and continue littering the duvet with crumbs. “What do you mean?”

“Reno said that we’re already on rations… What happens if—“

“We’ll be okay. I promise.”

“…Okay.”

But Sora was learning that Cloud wasn’t always right.

* * *

 

The “bus” was exactly that; It was nothing but an old black and yellow school bus, the words MIDGAR DISTRICT 2 PUBLIC SCHOOL stenciled in on the side in white paint that was chipping away. Reno pried the doors open and plopped himself in the driver’s seat, leaving Sora and Cloud to board with their single backpack. The feel of boarding a school bus was nostalgic, and Sora was starting to tear up again, but they took the seat directly behind Reno to keep themselves from seeing everything. Cloud let Sora have the window, shoving the backpack into the seat behind him.

They weren’t the only ones on the bus, as Cloud found out when he turned around. There were at least half a dozen kids near the rear of the bus, none of them with any sort of belongings. The most recognizable of the group was the boy with white hair that Cloud had seen in the doctor’s office, whose head was perched on a red-haired girl’s shoulder as he took a light snooze. He wondered how long they had been aboard, or if they had just been picked up straight from the doctor’s office. Another familiar boy from the office, who had blonde hair shaved close to his head and was poking the other boy’s arm, caught Cloud’s eye for a moment and they shared a tense second before Cloud turned back around in his seat.

“We got one more pick-up, and then we’ll be on the way,” Reno announced, forgoing his seatbelt as the bus roared to life. He muttered under his breath about the damn engine, which clicked and rattled until Reno pressed the gas. The thing heaved forward, Cloud immediately wishing they had some other mode of transportation. The bus didn’t seem reliable at all.

“Are we all going to the same place?” Cloud questioned once they had turned around the first block, the inn disappearing behind them. Cloud just hoped that his new home also had hot showers.

“Nah,” he replied simply, attempting to get the bus into a rather narrow lane. There weren’t any other cars on the street, which seemed a little odd, but there were plenty of people. Considering that they were at the city’s main entrance, the foot traffic made sense. He still didn’t understand why they couldn’t be using a _minivan_. Or at least a bus that didn’t sound like it was about to explode.

“There’s more than one foster home?”

Reno shot him a look in the side mirror, a bit amused. “Course not. But different foster homes specialize in different stuff. You n’ Zora—“

“Sora.”

“That’s what I said. You and _Sora_ are goin’ over to Sector Six because they have the best shrinks.”

“We don’t need a—“

“Grief counselors. People to talk to. People to make sure you don’t kill yerself. Whatever. Bottom line, they’re there. Most o’ these kids are going t’ Sector Five, where they can get adopted easier. Sector Five also has the most kid-friendly stuff. That’s where most o’ you guys end up. But considering what you’ve been through, Sector Six is your best bet.”

Cloud went silent, although he wanted to argue the point. He didn’t want Sora to miss out on “kid-friendly stuff” just because he had decided to shoot his brother, but he knew Reno was right. He wanted Sora to get counseling, even if he didn’t want it for himself. Sora was usually such a positive, upbeat person… Ever since their journey began, it was like he was seeing Sora dwindle away day by day. His smiles were rarer now, and his eyes didn’t hold the light that they used to. He still tried to be positive, but Cloud knew that it took him so much work to do so.

He was starting to remind Cloud of Roxas.

Their next stop was only a few blocks away, and Reno turned the buss off with a shuddering clank in the engine as he left to get whoever it was they were picking up in the first place. Sora had taken it upon himself to start doodling in the condensation on the window, knees pulled up and body huddled as the chill of the evening began to set in. Autumn was in full swing here, and winter was chasing its heels. They were lucky that they had managed to get to Midgar before it got too cold, as frostbite did _not_ sound appealing. With any luck, they would have heating where they ended up, just as they had at the inn. The bus didn’t have heat, but at least they could look forward to their destination’s radiators. That was a luxury that the brothers were excited to have. That, and blankets.

The brief silence in the bus was shattered by the sound of skin slapping skin and a loud laugh. Cloud and Sora both turned in their seats to see that the white haired boy was completely awake, the redhead frowning at him as the blond nursed a growing red spot on his cheek.

“Touch- _y._ Jesus, I was just makin’ sure Crack Baby over here was still alive.”

“Crack Baby?” the girl questioned, brows scrunching together as the boy beside her scowled. “His name’s Riku.”

“I know what his name is, but look at his _hair_ ,” he snickered, reaching over to poke Riku again, but having the offending digit smacked away.

“Lay off, Seifer,” the boy named Riku grumped, glancing up and noticing that the brothers up front were watching him. Why did they _stare_ at him so much?

“Did your mama do crack or somethin’? I mean, how _else_ do you get hair like that?”

“Shut up!” the girl squawked, wrapping her arms around Riku’s shoulders protectively. The boy looked completely unamused, and held Cloud’s gaze for a moment before shutting his eyes to block out the world.

“You gonna make me, you stupid bitch?”

The silence that followed afterward was deadly. The girl looked beyond confused at the vocabulary, but Riku’s eyes had snapped open and he was giving Seifer looks that could kill. The other children in the back were all wide-eyed, waiting for something to happen. Cloud put one leg in the aisle, ready to run down there and break up a fight if he had to. And it was a damn good thing he had seen it coming, because Seifer sure as hell didn’t.

Riku’s arm snapped back and flew forward faster than anyone could have stopped him, slamming his fist right into the blond’s nose. Everyone was suddenly on their feet, Sora’s hands over his mouth as Cloud ran down the length of the bus to pull them apart before Riku could give Seifer more than just a broken nose. Riku had crawled into the boy’s seat and was wailing on him wherever he could hit. Seifer was trying to kick him off, arms covering his face to protect it. The other kids had stood in the aisle to watch, successfully blocking Cloud’s interruption of the fight. There were shouts begging them to stop, but jeers were coming from Seifer’s friends as he continued to attempt to shove Riku off of him. Kairi was confused as she yelled at Riku to stop, and Cloud could only stand there and wait for them to break it off.

The sudden _crack_ of a gunshot ripped through the air, and everyone froze. Riku jumped out of Seifer’s seat as if he had been burned, spouting an eye that was blooming into a shiner. Everyone turned towards the front of the bus as a baby began to cry, Cloud’s blood turning icy when he saw Reno standing there.

In one hand was a gun pointed out the door, explaining the noise. In the other arm was a swaddled pile of soft white blankets, where the crying was coming from. The look on the man’s face was one of warning, giving the silent threat that the next bullet wasn’t about to go into the dirt.

“Sit _down_.”

The kids hit their seats so fast, it was a wonder that the bottom of the bus didn’t fall out. Rather than scurry all the way back to his own seat, Cloud just sunk into an empty bench with wide eyes. Sora looked like he had pissed himself, but his expression softened into confusion when Reno gave him the baby. Cloud was silently thankful that Sora knew how to hold it properly, as he sunk out of sight to cradle it until it stopped crying. Reno stalked towards the end of the bus, Seifer sitting up in his seat with a hand over his nose to snap it back in place. Reno had tucked the handgun into the holster at his hip, but looked just as murderous as he had earlier.

“Seifer.”

“The fuck you want?” the preteen snarled, wincing as a crack resounded from his bloody nose. “Albino started it.”

“His name’s—“

“I thought I told you to shut up, you flat-chested bitch.”

“She’s only nine—“

“No one told you to talk, snowball.”

“Then next time, try hitting me in the mouth.”

“Stand up, asshole,” Reno spat, jerking a thumb at the boy. Seifer’s response was to spit blood at him.

Cloud had never seen a man act that fast before in his life.

Reno grabbed Seifer by the collar of his hoodie, pulling him clear off the floor. He shoved him down the aisle, spitting out a command of “sit where I can see you” before promptly shoving him into the seat across from Sora. Scowling, Cloud got up and quietly slid in next to Sora as the bus rattled to life again.

“Say a word to me and you’re walkin’ to Sector Three,” Reno spat, no sooner than Seifer had opened his mouth. The blonde scowled and slouched in his seat, putting his knees up and crossing his arms over his chest.

The bus was silent after that, for a little while. The infant had fallen asleep in Sora’s arms and, not knowing what to do with the little pudgy bundle, Cloud took it from him instead so Sora could resume his artwork on the window. Seifer was glaring at the seat in front of him, occasionally punching at it or picking at small holes with stubby fingernails, very much aware of Cloud’s staring. In the rear of the bus, Kairi was still fussing over Riku and his new wounds, but Riku was blankly staring at the dried blood on his knuckles as if they were alien. The other kids had calmed, a few falling asleep as the bus bumped along old highways towards the gate for Sector Three. Sora’s drawings soon became nondescript scribbles as sleep claimed him as well, but Cloud was still awake, still staring.

What the hell had they gotten themselves into?

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but I was stuck on a rock. This chapter is a little abrupt with a time skip, but there wasn't a different way to break it up to fix that, and adding a few thousand words in random places seemed awkward.  
> Enjoy!

The bus was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be with scattered snores and Reno’s whistling to a static radio. The baby had calmed and was curled up close to Cloud’s sweater, not seeming to mind the faint stench of blood and… _other_ things. Cloud, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to be able to stop staring at Seifer.

“The hell do you want, chicken ass?”

Cloud blinked as Seifer turned to glare daggers at him, blue eyes squinted in a silent threat. Not that Cloud was very intimidated, of course.

“What’d you call me?”

“Your head looks like a chicken’s ass,” he explained, pointing a sausage-like finger at his hair.

Sora leaned forward so he could see, pouting. “That’s not nice.” Apparently Reno’s off-key whistling had woken him up, but there was still sleep in his eyes.

“What’re you gonna do about it, chicken wuss?” He suddenly grinned, highly amused at his little joke. “Fuckin’ chicken brothers. Chicken Ass and Chicken _Wuss_.”

“What’d I tell you ‘bout talkin’?” Reno growled, glancing away from the road for a moment to shoot Seifer a glare. His whistling mood had come to a rather abrupt end with Seifer’s chatting.

“You said I couldn’t talk to _you_.”

“Yeah, well save me the damn headache and shut up.”

Snorting, Seifer humored him, going back to picking at the material in front of him, muttering “chicken ass” under his breath to relive his little moment of humor. Reno gave him a seething glare before the bus began to slow, the brakes screeching and grinding as they found themselves at a gate, not unlike the one Cloud and Sora had come through days prior. The baby had woken up again at the noise, staring at Cloud’s chest in complete bafflement before it began to whine. The older’s knee began to bounce, too busy watching Reno to do much else to soothe the child.

The man stepped off the bus, but left the door open. Another man approached in a black suit and sunglasses, even though it was almost eight o’clock at night by now. But with the industrial floodlights, Cloud could assume that sunglasses were a good idea. That still didn’t help his uneasiness though, as the man looked like he had just stepped out of a damn _Men in Black_ film. The two shared a few words before Reno barked out a laugh and rubbed the guy’s bald head (Cloud held his breath and waited for that arm to get torn off) before clamoring back onto the rumbling bus and releasing the brakes. The gates swung open to let them through, Reno giving a wave and a thumbs-up as he drove through and they entered Sector Three.

The baby had calmed as soon as the movement resumed, and they drove in silence for a good thirty minutes. Sora fell asleep once more against the window, his breath fogging over the glass and erasing the doodles he had created. Most of the bus seemed to be asleep by this point, with Cloud and Reno as the exceptions. Even Seifer was dozing, with his arms crossed and a near-permanent scowl on his face. The blood around his nose had hardened and dried, and Cloud was wondering how his new foster home would react. Reno had mentioned he was going to Sector Three…

“You never mentioned what Sector Three specialized in,” Cloud said lowly, leaning forward so Reno could hear him over the engine. He held the infant in his arms carefully, the warm and plump body making small noises as it slept. “Seifer’s staying here?”

“Discipline,” he answered simply, making a wide turn at a stop sign without touching the brake. “If ya didn’t notice, he’s got the temper of a two year old and the mouth of a sailor. He wouldn’t tell anyone what was wrong with him. He’s too hardened up. Sending him here will help him open up a little. He’ll work hard to earn his keep, and if someone takes him in as a foster kid, then lucky him. For now, he just needs a firm hand and half a dozen psychiatrists, yo. If he makes a quick recovery, he might be sent off to Sector Five.”

Cloud gave a small nod, glancing over at the sleeping boy before focusing on the infant in his lap. “This baby…”

“Yeah, we’re surprised he made it. You really wanna hear his sob story though?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, wiping a bit of drool off the child’s chin with the edge of his blanket. He didn’t want to think about a baby being so alone in the world how it was. Just holding it, he could remember when he was younger and his father let him carry Sora around in his little blue, cloud-covered blanket cocoon. He had been so careful then… Babies were so fragile. Just one misplaced hand, and you could break their neck. Just like that. How any baby had managed to survive past birth in a world like this was a miracle, and he wanted to know how it had happened.

“His ma was shot at the gate. She’d been bit. Wanted to give her kid somewhere safe t’ live.” A pregnant silence swelled between them, Reno glancing in the mirror and scowling at the look of pure devastation on Cloud’s face. “Hey, he’s gonna be fine, yo. Ain’t no monsters in here to get him. He’s safe, just like his mama wanted.”

“I was just thinking,” he said softly, stroking the baby’s cheek and accidentally waking him, staring into cloudy gray eyes. “I mean… Everyone’s so young.”

“Everyone you’ve seen. Mostly, it’s adults.”

“Why aren’t any of the adults with the kids?”

“Some of ‘em are. Riku came in with a huge group, but him and Kairi didn’t have any adult willing t’ take ‘em in. They’ll be stayin’ at the foster homes ‘til someone comes.”

“That’s horrible…”

“And yer situation isn’t?” he challenged, raising a brow in the mirror.

Cloud frowned and looked back down at the baby. Silence spread back over them like frost, save for a few snores that Seifer snorted out every once and a while. The road got progressively more full of holes, but if anyone in the back _did_ wake up, they didn’t say anything. The baby flat-out refused to go back to sleep in the conditions, but it settled for suckling on the blanket instead. Cloud would have put his age at two months or so, but he didn’t really know babies that well. And this one was so small… But it was a baby. Everyone liked babies. At least, potential parents did. The baby had a good chance of getting adopted and having a good life. Cloud couldn’t help but predict his own future, realizing how bleak it was in comparison.

“Can I ask another question?”

“Ya just did,” Reno answered blandly, making a narrow turn and pulling into what looked like a dirt driveway. Just a two-track, with grass growing in the middle. It was the only vegetation Cloud had seen since they had entered the city and, for a moment, he didn’t remember what he was going to say. A little dirt two-track didn’t look like Midgar at all.

The bus gave a shudder and a few hisses and screeches as it came to a halt at the end of a driveway. Squinting through the front windshield, Cloud could see a quaint little porch and a house attached to it, but neither seemed to be in good shape. He startled when he saw a few chickens roaming around the area, occasionally stooping to peck up food from the weed-infested grass. The entire scene threw the blond for a loop, and he wished he had been paying more attention to their surroundings earlier. Seeing something like this… it reminded him of home.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Reno sent a well-aimed punch at Seifer’s shoulder, causing the boy to jerk awake and stare at Reno with the most fear Cloud had ever seen on a person before he realized who had hit him. He immediately scowled and glanced out the window, huffing heavily and standing. Reno looked perplexed as the boy shoved past him and got off the bus, stomping towards the house and causing the chickens to scatter. The redhead chewed on his lip a moment before he grabbed a manila folder from the sun visor, flipping through to check the documents before he stepped off and went after the boy.

The bus was left in the driveway for about thirty minutes while Reno took care of whatever business he had to. Sora had woken up at the stop and was watching Cloud attempt to re-position the baby, as his arms had started to go numb.

“Do you want me to hold him?” Sora whispered, wanting the heat of the body in his arms. The cold had rushed in through the open bus doors, and it was a wonder he hadn’t turned blue yet. But Cloud just shook his head, being stubborn about it. He had taken away a life. He just wanted to be able to hold onto one for a while longer.

Sora pouted at the answer (or lack thereof) and opted to simply scoot closer, getting an odd look as he tucked himself up against his brother, wrapping his skinny arms around Cloud’s elbow. Blinking up at him innocently, he smiled up at him to explain, “I’m cold.”

“We should be there soon,” Cloud reassured, looking up to see Reno cross the yard before climbing back into the bus. Cloud was surprised to see that the redhead’s face was blank for once, rather than amused or pissed off. It was a little unsettling, but they were back on the road soon enough.

The drive to the gate took another half hour, and even Cloud seemed ready to doze. By the time they reached the gate into Sector Five, it was just past midnight, and Cloud’s arm was numb with the affectionate growth still clinging to him. The baby was just looking around curiously, but he too fell asleep after an hour of smoother driving. Cloud continued to drift in and out, coming to whenever Sora shifted or the bus hit a large bump. He wondered how the hell Reno was staying awake, but under the yellow glow of the street lamps, the bags under his eyes were painfully obvious.

“You said you had another question,” Reno reminded the blond when he was jostled awake by Reno clipping a curb. The redhead was busy scanning a map, double-checking where he was going. “Ya ever gonna ask it, or what?”

Cloud startled, nearly forgetting that, yes, he _did_ have a question. Shifting the baby on his lap as good as he was able, he leaned forward a bit so he could ask without waking anyone. “What happens if we don’t get adopted?”

“Nothin’.”

He blinked, frowning at the back of the man’s head. He thought about that for a moment, leaning back and casting a look down at his sleeping brother. Nothing. That seemed like a pretty good alternative for going through more pain. But they would be okay. Nothing wasn’t something to be scared of.

Reno made a sudden sharp turn, causing the entire frame of the bus to creak and tilt. Everyone was jostled awake at the movements, Cloud bracing his legs on the seat in the aisle to make sure he wouldn’t drop the baby. There was a scream of “what the hell?” in the back, but Cloud understood why the turn had been made. They had barely scraped their way through a wrought-iron fence, pulling up the cement driveway of a small stone villa. Every light in the place was turned on, but it looked more intimidating than welcoming. The bus careened to a halt in front of a marble staircase that led to the main doors, confirming that this was the next stop.

The difference between the two foster homes was staggering.

Reno was stuffing folders into his briefcase as the children in the back of the bus all stood, quietly walking forward to step off. The oldest looking one, a boy that looked only half awake at the moment, took the infant from Cloud before stepping out with the others. Riku and the girl (Kairi, Cloud assumed) were the only ones left. Kairi was beside herself with tears, but Riku was rather stone-faced. It may not have been very polite, but Cloud was eavesdropping as Reno sorted through paperwork.

“Why can’t you stay here?”

“Because I have to go to Sector Six, Kairi. We’ve been through this.”

“But it’s not fair! You don’t need a shrink!”

“They think I do.”

“You don’t! Please, come with me!”

“Kairi, stop.”

“Riku! Please!”

Reno took that moment to intervene, gently grabbing Kairi’s upper arm and pulling her back. “You’ll have his address. You can be pen pals n’ shit.” His words didn’t calm her tears, but he was able to detach her from the front of Riku’s parka and usher her outside. Riku didn’t even look at her as he went to the back and sat down again, promptly leaning his head back into the faux fur of his hood to get more sleep.

It was nearly an hour before Reno returned that time, and Sora was back to sleeping and sucking as much body heat from Cloud as he could. Cloud himself was drifting off as well, but he woke up when Reno boarded again with an elderly woman in a green dress and a little white robe with matching slippers waving goodbye.

“Do tell Aerith I said hello.”

“Sure thing, Elmyra,” Reno replied, muffling a yawn on the back of his hand. He reached to close the doors, starting the bus up again with the same death rattle as it always made. Sighing, he looked over his shoulders at the remaining three passengers. He gave a tense smile to Cloud, the only one awake, before he turned back around in his seat and started to drive. “Ya don’t gotta stay awake for my sake, yo.”

“I’m not,” he mumbled, running a hand over his face. He had originally been staying awake to ensure that he didn’t drop the baby, but now that the warm little bundle was gone, he could sleep in peace. If he could doze off to the rumbling and clattering of the bus, but even that noise had dulled into a lullaby. The background noise was reassuring.

“Then do yourself a favor and get some damn shut-eye, alright? Ya need it.”

Cloud didn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

The screeching of tires was what woke up Cloud two hours later, the blonde blinking wearily in the sudden stillness. Sora was still sound asleep against his arm, but Reno was already up and flipping through the remaining three manila folders. Not all that motivated to move, Cloud stayed put, turning his head a bit so he could see their destination.

It didn’t look like much, really. The driveway was loose gravel, leading up to a three-story townhouse that stood alone. There were many trees around, and flowers were planted around the porch. There was a man coming out from the front door, a grin on his face as he half-jogged to the bus and waited by the closed doors. A woman came out a few minutes later, but she stayed on the porch, hands clasped in front of her. The entire house was lit up, just as the villa had been, but the light still wasn’t enough to expose the entire piece of property. But that was alright, because Cloud just wanted more sleep.

“We were wondering when you’d finally roll up,” the man chided, bundled in a denim jacket and a ski cap that covered his ears, grinning as the door opened.

Reno waved him off, handing him the paperwork. “Told ya we’d get here early in the morning.”

“I didn’t think three counted as morning,” he muttered, tucking the folders under his arm. “It’s the middle of the night, man.”

“Tell that to Tseng,” the redhead muttered, turning to the remaining kids on the bus. “Alright, up and at ‘em! We’re here!”

Cloud had to poke Sora around before the brunette woke up, but he didn’t let go of his brother’s arm. Sighing, Cloud simply got up, dragging the brunette with him as he grabbed their shared backpack and slung it over his unoccupied shoulder. Riku, coming down the aisle, raised an eyebrow at the brothers as they awkwardly shuffled out behind Reno, who was already halfway to the house with the other man.

Riku walked the fastest, keeping stride with Reno as they went up onto the porch and inside. The woman held the door for them, and no sooner than Riku crossed the threshold, she was ushering him off into another room, cooing worriedly over his black eye. Reno and the other man left in a different direction to go through the paperwork, leaving Cloud and Sora confused and alone in front of the door.

The house was quaint, although it was clear that the woman was in charge of decorating. The walls were papered in tacky floral, matching the upholstery of the couch in the small sitting room they were standing in. The flowers that weren’t printed were hung in pots or perched on the window sills. The smell was a little sour, but the underlying scent of freshly baked cookies was a warm welcome. Sora was leaning over to peek into the kitchen where the sweets were, but Cloud was rooted firmly to the spot with his discomfort.

A few moments later and the man came out of the room, Reno disappearing into the kitchen instead and bringing the paperwork to the woman’s attention. The man stayed put, giving the two brothers an odd, almost sympathetic look as he scratched a small scar on his cheek.

“I don’t really run this place, so Aerith’s gonna take care of the paperwork. I’m Zack, by the way.”

He didn’t get much of a response, Sora shuffling his feet and Cloud still taking in the flowery home.

“I’ll show you to your rooms,” he said softly, breaking the silence by tugging off his hat and exposing wild black hair. Cloud startled a little at how easily it had fit into his cap, but he was being led down the hall and up the stairs too quickly for him to be too surprised. “Me and Aerith are the caretakers here, but there’s only four of you in total, so I think we'll be alright.”

“Okay,” Sora yawned, nearly tripping up the wooden stairs as Cloud half-carried him up. “Can we sleep now?”

Zack chuckled, taking a left in a long hallway at the top. He stopped at the second door on the right, pushing it open. “This is your room. The bathroom’s right next door if you need it.”

They didn’t notice the head of a black-haired girl peeking at them from the top of the attic stairs.

The room was small, but that was to be expected. They were more pleased that there weren’t any flowers, honestly. There was just enough room for a dresser and a bunk-bed, and a desk that was crammed in the corner with a small stool to sit on. Zack flipped on the overhead light to bathe the room in a gentle yellow tinge, reflecting off the cream walls and lacey curtains. It was a simple room, that much was obvious, but all the brothers really cared about right then were the beds.

Cloud sat the backpack with their uneaten food on the desk as soon as Sora let go of him, heading for the bottom bunk. The bottom bunk would be the best place, as he could see the door, and if anything came in to harm them—

He swallowed thickly as soon as he realized what he was thinking, changing his mind and climbing the ladder to get to the top bunk to save Sora from his fear of heights. Zack noticed this, of course, but chose not to say anything. Sora flopped onto the bottom bunk and wiggled under the sheets and the Christmas-themed quilt to get some sleep, slipping unconscious no sooner than his head had hit the pillow. Cloud, however, stayed sitting up with the top of his head grazing the ceiling.

“If you need someone to talk to, I’m available,” Zack said softly, watching Cloud cautiously. He knew that the blond was at the most risk in the situation. Reno had given them a brief explanation of the Strife boys’ situation, and a part of him knew that Cloud was the most susceptible. He was older than Sora, and more understanding of the world and how it worked. In the long run, Cloud knew how to commit suicide. Until he proved that he wasn’t thinking about it, he was considered under full-time watch.

“I’m fine,” he deadpanned, finally flopping down on top of his own quilt. “I just need sleep.”

“Yeah, you do. Sleep in as late as you want tomorrow. We can talk then.”

“I don’t need to talk.”

“Cloud…”

“How do you even know our names?”

“Paperwork,” he answered simply, stepping towards the door. “You’re here to get help. Don’t turn it down. Reno told us what happened, but he didn’t give any details. Whenever you feel like you can bring it up in conversation, please do. We just want to make sure you’re safe. You’re the eldest, Cloud. You’re the most mature, but you’re also the one that understands more.” He heaved a small sigh when Cloud just turned his back to him, shutting off the light. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

 

“Cloud!”

Blue eyes flew open as the young man shot up, head slamming into the ceiling and knocking him back into bed with groaned curses. Five years and he had gotten used to being so close to the ceiling, but getting such a shrill wake-up call tended to make him forget. He rubbed at the bruise he felt forming before he realized that the light was on and Sora was doing _something_ in the dresser. Tearing it apart, probably.

“Get up and get dressed! Aerith’s taking us to Wall Market!”

“That’s nice,” Cloud muttered, too groggy and grumpy to really care. He rolled over heavily, burying his face into his pillow. “It’s too early.”

“Yeah, because it takes like an hour to get there. Get up!” A balled up pair of socks sailed into Cloud’s bed, successfully hitting him in the face. “Zack’s making breakfast!”

 _That_ got Cloud out of bed.

Usually, their mornings consisted of oatmeal and the occasional fruit salad when Aerith woke up with them. They would then be ushered to help her in the gardens before it was lunch time, which Zack made sandwiches for. Dinner was often a group effort, but Zack’s breakfast cooking was something to die for. The man didn’t cook much, but when he actually woke up earlier than Aerith, he made the place his. Eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, actual cereal, and sometimes even donuts were the regular, and they would spend a good hour just chewing through it all before they gave in and saved the rest for lunch.

Rations were still in effect in Midgar, and they were getting worse as the years had passed. Aerith had saved their asses though, given her heavily stocked meat cellar and the gardens surrounding the property. She often traded excess fruits and vegetables with their chicken-raising neighbors, getting eggs or poultry in return. Bacon was hard to come by, but as soon as the smell hit Cloud’s nose, he passed over his ladder and simply jumped out of bed.

“Whoa!” Sora cried, covering his face in the shirt he was about to put on. “Warn me when you sleep in the nude!”

“I’m not nude,” he teased, grabbing his own clothes from the dresser as Sora skittered away. “I’m wearing socks.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You’re the one freaked out by your naked brother. We used to take _baths_ together.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t jumping around! I don’t need to see that!”

“Don’t make it dirty,” he muttered, bumping into Sora’s shoulders as he passed him and peeked his head out into the hall. Seeing that the coast was clear, he scurried into the bathroom get himself ready for that _delightful_ bacon that he was practically drooling over already.

After relieving his sleepy bladder and awkwardly stepping into his jeans, Cloud took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He had filled out significantly in the five years he had spent under Aerith and Zack’s roof, most of it thanks to the work Zack insisted he keep himself occupied with. There was a church just down the road that Aerith frequented, but the place had been burned and broken into when the outbreak first started. Zack and Cloud took the job of rebuilding, Riku helping out whenever Sora gave him breathing room. Cloud was even surprised at the muscle mass he had put on, especially considering that the food he ate wasn’t the best in the world. His skin had also gained a tan from the sun exposure, but there was a pale line on the inside of his arm. A scar from a wound that used to be infected, so long ago, protecting someone so dear to him.

“Roxas would’ve loved this place…”

He sighed and passed a hand over his face, feeling the itchiness of stubble growing in. He weighed his options between shaving or inhaling bacon and went with the latter, pulling his t-shirt over his head and trying to shove Roxas back to the corner of his mind. It was a daily occurrence for him to think of the blond, but at least now he could do it without breaking down.

Zack had ended up being a good support beam for Cloud to lean on. Since the two of them were only about three years apart, they got along better than Cloud did with the other kids. He had caved about a month into their living situation and he had told the brunet everything, and Zack had listened intently and helped him work to a better state. They spent their days doing manual labor once Zack came to the realization that Cloud seemed to be his most open then. Cloud hadn’t been entirely “cured”, but at least he smiled a little more often and was more willing to keep himself out of isolation. He had had plenty of relapses, of course, but if Zack wasn’t around, Aerith just as easily picked him up. Zack treated him like a friend, and Cloud considered him his _best_ friend, but Aerith still mothered him with bread and soup broth whenever he wasn’t feeling well.

Bacon was much better for his psyche than dry bread and watery soup.

Heading down the stairs in sock-padded feet, Cloud smiled when he saw a head of black hair. Xion didn’t come out of her room very often, and if she did, she usually stuck to Aerith’s side like glue. It was unusual for her to even wake up without the woman going to retrieve her, but the scent of bacon and eggs (and was that the sound of donut oil?) was luring out everyone. She gave Cloud a small smile that only lasted a second as they entered the kitchen, watching Zack scurry about with a grin on his face.

“Breakfast is about to be served! Go help Aerith set the table, Xi. Cloud, help me with the bacon?”

Cloud liked to cook. He didn’t _love_ it, but he didn’t mind it. There was a certain victory when he completed a meal successfully, especially considering that his experience was heavily based in canned goods and microwave meals. Bacon was dangerous, given how much oil Zack liked to use, but he prodded the strips around as Zack flipped scrambled eggs onto a platter. He watched as the raven-haired man passed the plate off to Riku, who quietly carted it to the table. Zack started paying attention to the donuts, glancing over at Cloud’s work and giving a smile of approval. His gaze lingered, however, even as Cloud looked away to put his attention back to the meat.

“Zack?”

The men looked up as Aerith came in, already in her usual sundress and sandals and ready to go. She gave Cloud a soft smile before glancing at the food. Cloud got the hint and carried the bacon and fresh donuts to the dining room, but the caretakers didn’t follow him in.

Sora already had a plate full of eggs and toast and was busy shoveling it into his mouth, grabbing bacon as soon as it hit the table. Cloud rolled his eyes at his brother and took his own seat beside Riku, who was eating much slower in the effort to savor the tastes as much as he could. Xion was nibbling shyly, occasionally glancing over at Sora in awe at how much the fifteen year old could shove into his mouth. No one said anything as they ate, and Zack came in a few moments later with Aerith to partake in the meal. The silence persisted, and though no one seemed bothered by it, Cloud could sense an underlying tension in the room. Aerith wasn’t eating much, poking at her eggs with her fork while Zack rubbed at the condensation on his water glass. Cloud opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Sora cut him off through a mouthful of donut dough.

“When’re we gon’ leave fer th’ ma’ket?” he slurred, swallowing his food and giving an apologetic look when Zack chuckled at him.

“As soon as you’re all done eating,” she answered softly, finally picking up some eggs and nibbling on them. She noticed the way Cloud was watching her and gave him another smile. “You’ve never been to Wall Market before, have you?”

“No,” he replied carefully, glancing over to see Sora shoveling even more food into his mouth. “I never had a reason to.” That, of course, wasn’t entirely true. Cloud had chosen to work alongside Zack and Aerith when he turned eighteen, earning himself monthly paychecks from the government. He never spent the money himself, but rather saved it in a sock under his pillow and occasionally gave Sora some whenever the brunet went with Riku into town. He had more than enough money to blow on shopping, and he could think of a few things he would like to buy, but he wasn’t fond of shopping. It was busy, stressing, and too time-consuming for him. He didn’t like haggling with people, and going to an outdoor market that was an hour’s drive away was not something the blond could look forward to. But if Aerith wanted to make a whole “Bonding Day” out of it, he couldn’t really back out.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself,” she said cheerily, swallowing another small bite of eggs before she continued. Cloud thought her smile looked plastic. “Maybe you’ll meet some new people.”

“Cloud’s not very social,” Sora snickered, jabbing at his brother’s arm with a fork.

“So we’ve noticed,” Riku teased, giving a half smirk to the irritated blond before returning to his own meal.

“They have a sword shop there,” Zack piped up, pointing a crispy strip of bacon at him. “You said you wanted to start your collection again, and with all the money you saved up, you could easily get a small start on that.”  Aerith shot him a quick glare at the idea of _weapons_ , but Zack just gave her a small shrug. “It’s something he told me he enjoys.”

“Is that what you two go off to do every evening?” she whispered, her tone casting ice on the happiness at the table. Except for Sora, who was still stuffing his face like a pig. “Teaching him how to wield a sword? We’re safe here. There’s no reason for that.” But her voice was tight. Cloud didn’t believe her.

“No reason other than him wanting to learn,” Zack shot back, trying to keep his tone light to keep the mood from dropping. “He’s twenty-two, Aerith. He’s not a kid.”

“Yes, but he’s under our care—“

“He’s our coworker—“

“Under our _care_ —“

“Can we leave now?”

The two snapped out of their little argument as all eyes went to Xion, who shrunk down when all attention was given to her. There was a beat of stunned silence before she slid out of her chair, running back for the stairs and hurrying up them. Another beat of silence and Aerith calmly rose, giving Zack a loaded stare before she went to follow the raven haired girl.

“Awk-ward,” Sora sang under his breath, dropping his fork onto his now-empty plate, looking between the three remainders at the table. “Did something happen?”

Zack blinked a few times to bring himself back to the current, sighing and going back to his food. “She didn’t sleep well.”

“It seems like more than just a lack of sleep,” Cloud mumbled, the woman’s behavior not sitting well with him. “She didn’t act like this even when Elmyra died—“

“Might be on her period,” Riku muttered, stabbing at his eggs. He looked up when he noticed everyone had heard him, and Zack didn’t look pleased. “I was joking.”

Zack sighed, finishing up his eggs before he stood with his plate. “You guys get ready to go. I’ll clean up.”

“Need help?” Cloud offered, standing as well. He hadn’t eaten much, but there would be plenty of leftovers for lunch when they came back home.

“I’ve got it. Go get ready to leave. I’ll talk to Aerith when she’s done with Xion.”

It was an awkward and silent affair as the boys rose from the table and went up to their rooms. Riku claimed the shower on their floor for his own uses, forcing Sora to wait while Cloud gathered his things and headed up to the third floor to use Xion’s shower. This bathroom was the smallest in the entire house, the shower jammed into a corner and a toilet wedged beside it. The sink was just barely big enough for Cloud to pile his clothes in as he stripped, taking a moment to inspect his stubble in the mirror before grabbing a towel from the linen closet behind the door. Turning the lock, he headed towards the shower and reached in to turn it on. He paused, however, when he heard Zack on the other side of the door.

“Aerith, please. The kids are starting to get worried that something’s up. You scared Xion, and Cloud’s suspicious. You promised you weren’t going to let yourself get worked up in front of them.”

There was a small huff of air through the thin door before Aerith responded, her voice so low that Cloud had to press his ear against the wood in order to hear her. “I’m sorry. I… I just can’t believe this is happening.” Her voice was starting to shake, and he could picture Zack trying to comfort her as she began to tear up. “I knew it was coming. They warned us. But then the rations stopped coming, and Tseng’s call…”

“We don’t know for certain if it’s happening.”

“But—“

“It might not be us.”

“But what if it is?”

“Shh, shh… Aerith, calm down. Just take them to Wall Market today, and if nothing happens, then nothing happens. Just stay near the gate, okay?”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be here. I have to guard the house.”

“From what?”

“Aerith, please. If anyone else knows… Who knows what they’ll do.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Cloud could only hear his breathing and his heart. The silence prolonged before he heard Zack’s boots slowly walk away, and Aerith followed after him. He swallowed thickly, leaning against the door in their absence.

What the hell was going on?


	6. Chapter 6

Wall Market wasn’t as grand as Sora’s stories had made it out to be. It was far off the main road, down a concrete path that had seen better days. There was an abandoned playground nearby, but the market itself didn’t seem to be any place for children. The area was large and open, booths and tents set up in neat rows in the area. The farthest row was pushed against the wall that separated them from Sector Seven and, sure enough, the gate was about twenty feet from the first booth. There were only two guards flanking the sides, machine guns on their backs as they chatted with each other or the occasional passing civilian. There weren’t many civilians around either though, and Cloud wasn’t sure if that was unusual or just because it was a Tuesday. Even some of the booths and tents were closed, with no one around to man the stations. Litter rolled about on the dusty ground as shuffling feet crossed it, making the place feel like a ghost town.

“What happened?” Sora mumbled, frowning at the sight and stepping in front of their group. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he turned to Aerith, who had gone a little pale. “Why is everything so dead today?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, taking Xion’s hand. She forced her best smile, looking around at everyone. “Stay together in a buddy system, alright? We’ll meet back here in a couple hours.”

“Yes ma’am!” Sora cried, his worry suddenly washed away as he snagged Riku’s arm and ran off with him. Cloud hesitated at the movement, not exactly wanting to be left with the girls, even if he _did_ want to ask Aerith a few questions. This wasn’t the place to ask. And the more he considered his options, the further Sora and Riku were getting from him.

He headed after them in a jog, catching up when they stopped to look at a fruit stand. The goods were a little surprising and foreign—When had been the last time Cloud had seen a banana? He had mostly been living on berries and apples for the past five years. Riku bought a banana for he and Sora to share, the boys not waiting for Cloud to get one for himself. By time the blond had turned around, fruit and change in hand, the two teenagers were nowhere to be seen.

Sighing, Cloud gave up, knowing that they would be plenty safe. Wall Market was a large area, but it wasn’t hard to lose anyone in a crowd so thin. So he simply chewed on his purchase (and _damn_ was it good) as he meandered his way through the stalls. He spotted Aerith and Xion gazing at one of the many jewelry booths, and later saw Sora dragging Riku into a psychic’s tent. Tossing his peel in the next garbage can he saw, which just so happened to be next to the largest tent in the area. The one closest to the gate.

Blue eyes squinted at the dark fabric as he searched for some sort of sign, but he couldn’t find one. He couldn’t peek inside either, as the entryway was blocked by a thick red carpet. His curiosity got the better of him as he slipped inside, hands dipping into his pockets to make sure that his money was still there, which it was. He stopped when his eyes finally adjusted to the dim lighting, however, feeling his body leave him in a small sigh of surprise.

The tent seemed to be even larger in the inside, but the size nor the bamboo rug laid out was what caught the man’s attention. It was in the hundreds of glass cases and wooden stands, where all sorts of weapons rested. Pistols, rifles, crossbows, barbed arrows, explosives, knives, axes, spears, and  _swords_.

“See somethin’ ya like, kiddo?” a man called out, emerging with a cleaning rag from one of the glass cases. He seemed surprised when he actually noticed Cloud’s age, as the two of them were probably the same. The cleaning man was a bit taller, however, his brown hair pulled back and mostly hidden under a wide black cowboy hat. He didn’t have much on other than jeans and a leather vest, which was more than enough for the stuffy humidity within the tent. Outside, at least, there seemed to be a breeze.

“Swords,” he blurted dumbly, walking over to the wall that held anything from a katana to a hunting knife, staring like a kid in a candy store.

The other man laughed at him, tucking the cloth into his belt and heading over, cowboy boots clicking on the flooring. “Anything in particular?” He looked the customer over, noting the muscles in his arms. Not very strong, but definitely able to work a moderate-sized weapon. “Or are you a collector?”

“Collector, I guess,” he answered blankly, being drawn to some of the larger, broader styles.

“Well, I’d like to give you a rundown of what we got, but I’m more familiar with the firearms. The sword guy took the day off,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing at his neck before he stepped over to the blond. “If you wanna hold a few, you can.”

“No thanks,” he sighed, noting the price tag on the bigger blade. The man seemed to notice this, grinning as he pulled a ring of keys from his pocket.

“That one there we call the Fusion Sword. It’s got six separate blades in it that you can use individually, but they all snap back into place if you need a bigger weapon. We sell it mostly to caravans that’re passin’ through. You run out of ammo and you’re screwed, but you have this guy, and you and your whole group are safe.”

Cloud blinked, watching as the merchant unlocked the case. “Caravans…?”

“Yeah. Not everyone’s here to stay, and it’s a mess out there.”

 _Out there_. Where Cloud never wanted to go again.

“Look, I can’t pick this guy up, but you wanna try? You got more muscle than I do.”

“No, it’s alright,” he said distractedly, thinking of what Zack had mentioned about staying near the gate in association with caravans passing through the city. He felt as if there was a correlation there, but he didn’t know what it was. “I don’t have the Gil for that anyway.”

“Tell you what,” he drawled, looking between the blond and the sword. “This is my last one, and I can’t get any son of a bitch to buy it off me. No one’s strong enough to carry the thing outta here. If you can pick it up and hold it, I’ll give it to you for half.”

Cloud eyed the price tag once again, temptation burning a hole in his pocket. If he wanted to start up a collection like he had discussed with Zack, this would be the _perfect_ thing to start it. And it didn’t look that heavy… For half, he could afford it and still have money left over if he wanted to buy anything else. He would have money left for food, and if his uneasy feeling manifested into something larger, he would have the best weapon to fight with if he needed it. The merchant didn’t seem too intent on letting him leave empty-handed either…

“How long do I have to hold it for?”

* * *

 

“Holy shit, Cloud!”

“ _Language_ , Sora.”

“Language shmanguage!” the brunet protested, leaving Riku’s side at a book stand and running over to his brother. “Where did you get that sword? It looks so cool!”

He sighed, hefting the oversized blade onto his shoulder to keep it balanced. He had been able to carry it out of the tent, but by now his arm was getting a bit sore. He wasn’t sure if he regretted dropping eight hundred Gil on it yet or not. “Weapons shop. The one Zack mentioned.” Quickly wanting to change the subject before Sora could beg for a sword of his own, he glanced down at the cloth bag he was carrying. “And what did you buy?”

Sora stared at the blade a bit longer before he caved under Cloud’s stare, shifting around and pulling out his purchases. “I bought some sea shells in a bottle—Look!” Grinning, he held the liter bottle up to his brother’s face to get a reaction. Once he got a little smile, he pushed it back in and pulled out his next prize, flashing the colorful block at the blond next. “A Rubik’s Cube!” Riku rolled his eyes at that one while Cloud just raised his eyebrows before Sora pouted and put it back, grabbing his final item of everyday junk that Cloud didn’t know why he had spent money on. But the last item made him groan, not amused as Sora grinned around a bag of hard candy that was taking up the majority of the shopping bag he had acquired.

Cloud shot Riku a look, and the boy just rose his hands in defense. “It’s not my Gil to spend. He’s only got three left anyway, so he’s done for now.”

The blond sighed again, fingers idly playing with the leather hilt of his new find. “Well wrap it up soon. We need to meet up with Aerith in less than an hour,” he instructed, giving a quick glance to his watch.

“We know!” Sora chipped, packing his things away and grabbing Riku’s wrist, dragging him off to another booth and another vendor.

Cloud sighed as he was left behind in the metaphorical (and a bit of literal) dust of his brother, briefly browsing the book vendor before he turned and set out to look for wherever Aerith and Xion had wandered off to. He took his time, browsing at the different booths and tents. Nothing caught his eye enough for him to drop his remaining five hundred Gil on it, until he reached the little purple tent that he had seen Sora and Riku disappear into before. Cloud was a natural born skeptic, but the price of only fifteen Gil to get his fortune was tempting. He didn’t believe in psychics, but he at least wanted to see what all the hype was about.

Before he could make up his mind, the beaded curtain in the doorway opened, revealing a frail old woman that clinked when she moved. Her garb was billowing and soft, the colors dark and matching that of her tent. She grabbed the sign on her tent and flipped it so it read _closed_ , turning so quickly to Cloud that the beads and feathers in her hair almost ripped her scalp off.

Cloud startled under her gaze, her eyes huge and bright as she simply _stared_ at him. She held his eye contact until he got uncomfortable, looking down to the Gil he had withdrawn from his pocket. He opened his mouth to apologize for just standing there like an idiot with a sword, but her whispered words made him freeze.

“You do not need my help, child. There is no one that can help one with such a heavy burden.”

He blinked at her, his arm straining against the sword. Was that what she was talking about…?

Her spidery ring-covered hands folded in front of her as if she was praying, and Cloud startled when tears began to fall from her eyes. “I am so sorry, child,” she whispered softly, giving a deep, sweeping bow before she disappeared back through the beaded curtains. Confused and more than a little concerned, Cloud started forward to follow her, but a sound stopped him in his tracks.

It wasn’t a sound. No, he could _feel_ it. It drowned out any coherent thought with its volume, and everything at the market seemed to freeze in that moment of time. It sounded like all of the thunder in the world had been let loose at once for a split second, and it wasn’t until Cloud pinpointed where the noise had come from that he turned and saw the source. His blood had run cold as the volume lessened, only to be replaced with a shock wave that sent everyone stumbling backwards, the tip of the Fusion Sword hitting the ground as a few tents and booths rocked in their place with the force. The volume reared up again seconds later, rumbling the ground and rattling everyone’s bones. A huge cloud of dust and smoke erupted from over the wall, debris flying out and crashing into the market square.

Panic set in as the sound began to quiet as the destruction settled, and Cloud was moving. The sword was suddenly weightless in his hand with adrenaline and he _ran_ , trying to find Riku, Xion, Aerith, _Sora_ —

Everyone was screaming in the sudden chaos, mothers grabbing their children and running. No one knew what was happening, not even as rays of the sun began streaming through where the Upper Plate had once been. Cloud was busy dodging debris that littered the ground and everyone else that was running around, hoping he wouldn’t be crushed under a slab of cement or metal piping as it continued to rain down on Wall Market like industrial rain. He barely registered that there was a scream of his name before a body plowed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. It took another few seconds to realize that the body was Sora, and Riku was sprinting at them to catch up.

“Aerith’s at the entrance! She says we need to leave!” the white-haired boy shouted, grabbing Sora by the back of his shirt and yanking him backwards.

Cloud gave a numb nod to the order and settled for clinging to Sora’s hand, sword resting on his shoulder as he followed Riku’s lead through the damage and madness to where their truck rested in the lot by the gate. Aerith was already clambering into the driver’s seat, Xion crawling into the back. Cloud let go of Sora when they got close enough, depositing his sword in the bed of the truck with Sora’s bag before he got in the passenger seat. Once Riku and Sora had jammed into the back, Aerith hit the gas, swerving through the crowd of people and cars as she fought her way to the street. Once there, a heavy silence filled the car, everyone but Aerith looking out the back window at the smoke and dust that was still rising as bits of the Upper Plate chipped off and fell. The gravity of the situation seemed to set in then, and suddenly Aerith’s fear and odd behavior made sense.

Sector Seven had been destroyed. The entire process had taken only five minutes at the most, and Cloud’s blood ran cold when he thought of how many people had just been crushed under the weight of the Upper Plate. The feeling stayed in his gut, the back of his mind wondering what would happen if their sector was next.

The first question was posed just over thirty minutes outside of Wall Market, when they started to enter heavy traffic. Their speed decreasing to single digits, and Aerith looked like she was about to cry.

“What’s going on?”

Sora’s question hung in the air for several moments, no one knowing what to tell him. Everyone looked to Aerith, but her psyche looked so fragile that no one pushed her. Sora shrunk back in his seat, hands clinging to Riku’s as he tried to remain calm. Xion looked blank and numb, staring at the back of Aerith’s head with a vacant expression. After what seemed like an eternity, Cloud took it upon himself as the only other adult and, more importantly, Sora’s brother, to answer him.

“The plate above Sector Seven was destroyed, and it fell…”

“Everyone was evacuated, right?” he pleaded, eyes searching his brother’s face for some sort of reassurance.

Aerith answered that time, voice trembling as the traffic hit a complete standstill. “The government needed to lower the population because rations are starting to run out. They wiped out the slums first…”

“How do you know that?” Riku asked quickly, cutting off whatever Sora was going to say as the brunet started to tear up. “Is that why you were acting weird today?”

She nodded stiffly, fingers clenching the wheel as impatient honking sounded from all around them. “Our own rations were cut on Sunday. Tseng called us this morning and told us what was happening. I took you all to Wall Market today because, if it was our plate that fell, we would have been able to get past the wall and into somewhere safe.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Riku demanded, eyes narrowed and glaring daggers into the back of the woman’s head.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” she gently whispered, tears beginning to run down her face. Cloud shot Riku a look to get him to stop, but the sixteen year old didn’t care.

“What good did that do? At least we would have been prepared—“

“Riku, stop,” Sora said softly, squeezing his hand in his. “Please.”

But Riku didn’t listen.

“Why didn’t you tell us that our rations were gone? Why did Zack make such a big meal this morning if that’s true? You didn’t want us to die on empty stomachs? Is that it?”

“Riku,” Cloud warned as Aerith began to cry all-out, one of her hands leaving the wheel to cover her mouth.

The teen held Cloud’s glare for a moment before he caved, slouching back into his seat and pulling his hand away from Sora. His arms crossed over his chest and he stared out the window at all the other cars, going silent. Sora frowned at him, folding his hands in his lap for a moment before he pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest. Xion gave him a curious look and offered her hand to him, and he gave her a small smile before taking it. Cloud gave them a tense smile before he faced forward again, looking at the bumper of the sedan in front of them.

“Where did all the cars come from?” he muttered, reaching to turn the manual crack on the window so he could stick his head out to see how far the traffic was ahead. There hadn’t been this many people at Wall Market, so where…?

There were maybe twenty, thirty cars in front of them. Red brake lights glowed in the shadow of the Plate, and Cloud could see people moving their cars into park as they got out to look around. Both lanes seemed to be at a standstill, and Cloud’s cold blood was back when he saw the reason for the stop. An enormous beam had fallen from the plate, resting across the road and on top of a couple cars. People were out to survey the damage, but the blond couldn’t see any emergency response teams, like there should have been. There should have at least been an ambulance or a police car…

Suddenly, screams ripped out from the crowd, and Cloud turned his head to look up at the source of all the pointing and running. The beam had brought a friend with it—And a big one, at that.

“Turn around!” he screamed, sitting back down and reaching for the wheel himself. Aerith turned to him with wide eyes, trying to convey that she was too boxed in with the other cars to move much.

And then the thunder struck again.

“Get down!” came the changed order, the words echoing in shrieks of terror throughout the crowd. Cloud hastily ripped himself free of his seatbelt and climbed over the armrest to get in the back, grabbing his brother and pulling him down to shield him underneath himself. Aerith screamed and covered her head in her hands, Xion was a deer in the headlights, and Riku tore off his own belt and immediately pulled himself into the fetal position.

In a matter of seconds, it was all over.

* * *

 

Something was beeping. It was a steady rate, screeching into too-tender ears. He tried to grab his pillow to muffle the sound of the alarm clock, but he couldn’t move his arms. He tried his fingers, his toes, even his eyelids, but nothing would work. There was nothing restraining him that he could feel, but he just felt… heavy. Sluggish. Was he really _that_ tired? Maybe he had let Zack coax him into too much beer again… Aerith was going to be _beyond_ angry with him.

“Cloud.”

He grunted in response, but the noise turned into a cough when he felt something clogging up his throat. He grimaced, trying to quiet the sound, and he heard a little chuckle beside him.

“Did I scare you?”

“No,” he rasped, surprised at the sound of his own voice. It was rough and gravely, hitching and breaking on whatever it was that was leaking down his throat. It felt warm, as if he had downed an entire luke-warm pot of coffee at once to get the caffeine at the price of the rusty taste. His body was still heavy though, and he wondered if Roxas was just going to sit there and make fun of him or shut off his damn alarm already.

“Then wake up already. I thought Sora was the sleepyhead, not you too.”

“Not a sleepy head,” he argued, eyebrows scrunching as he tried to open his eyes. He still couldn’t. “Shut off the damn alarm, please. It’s giving me a headache.”

“You have to wake up first, Cloud.”

“I’m awake, Roxas.”

“No you’re not, Cloud.”

He scowled, managing a small twitch of one of his fingers. His body was leaving the suspended cloud of sleep he was stuck in, even if it was only a finger twitch. But his body felt… different. It hurt. The weight holding him where he was suddenly got heavier, and he couldn’t breathe. He was gasping, dying to get air in his wet throat, and he could feel fingers running through his hair.

“Cloud,” Roxas called, his voice striking Cloud as… odd. He sounded sad, almost. But the name was said too short for Cloud to pick up on anything else. The fingers in his hair were suddenly not as gently, firmly pressing into the back of his skull to lift his head. The movement made him cough again as his airway opened at the angle, the gagging and hacking much harder than last time, and he felt some of the warm liquid in his throat splatter on his lips. It wasn’t coffee, was it…? It couldn’t be. Coffee didn’t taste like that. Coffee wasn’t liquid copper.

His fingers twitched again and a brief spasm overtook his arm, the weight on his chest suddenly shifting further down to his legs. He heaved in gasps of air in desperation, hand coming up to his lips to feel the warm, sticky substance on his lips. His eyes strained as he opened them, a note of panic settling itself in his mind. Why was there blood in his throat and mouth…? But he could see now, and once he got adjusted to how damn _bright_ it was, the panic intensified.

Sora was crying right in front of him.

The world slammed back into perspective as he woke up, hand moving from his own mouth to grab at Sora’s neck, trying to yank him down for a hug on reflex. But he heard Riku snap at him and pull him back, his arm flopping back to the ground when Sora was gone. He lifted his head and felt the blood move in his throat, causing him to cough again. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was lying on the road amidst metal scraps of debris, and a mass of warped cement was lying on his chest. Aerith, and eventually Riku, were trying to pry it off while Sora sat at his side in hysterics, Cloud’s name occasionally coming out from the other mangled noises he was making. The beeping was blaring into his ears and he recognized it as the sound of a car alarm, and he could hear other screams in the distance. The sun was too bright above them, no longer filtered through iron grating a mile above. There was smoke, dust, blood, crying…

The Plate had fallen on them and, somehow, they had survived.

The cement was dragged off of him and he cried out when his sigh of relief turned to a shock of pain through his chest. Aerith dropped the debris as soon as he was free and ran to his side, crouching down by his head. Her face was covered in a layer of dust, bits of blood here and there and trails of tears cleaning it all off. She gently pressed her hands back under his head, where he had felt them earlier, and she pulled him onto her lap to prop him up so he could breathe easy.

“Tell me where it hurts,” she demanded tightly, her fingers trembling against Cloud’s skull. He knew she was scared. Why wouldn’t she be?

“Arm,” he forced out, coming to the realization that only one arm was moving while the other lay mangled on the road beside him, and she nodded to encourage him to keep going. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to take stock in his body. The blood in his throat… he didn’t know where it was coming from. It didn’t feel like it was from his lungs, which at least meant that his wounds weren’t fatal. But when he inhaled, he noticed the sharp pains in his side, exhaling sharply. “Ribs.”

“Are they broken?”

“I-I think so,” he rasped.

She looked down at him, concern dancing in her eyes before she focused on Riku, who was standing back with a hand on Sora’s shoulder. “Find the car that’s making that noise. We need to—“

“We can’t drive anywhere,” he interrupted, face pale, yet focused. It reminded Cloud of the face he had seen five years ago in the doctor’s office. His hair was dyed red in the front, and blood was running down the left side of his face, half-blinding him. He didn’t seem to care about the damage. “We have to walk.”

“His ribs—“

“We’ll help him,” Sora hiccupped, struggling to his feet. He looked down at his brother, and Cloud was reassured that he didn’t seem to have any injuries.  He managed a small smile to the brunet and Sora couldn’t bring himself to return it, making a face that looked painful. “Cloud,” he whimpered, clenching his fists in his own stomach to keep himself from going into hysterics again.

Cloud looked back at the sky, trying to think from the stimulation slamming into him from the world around him. It was hard enough to ignore his injuries, let alone car alarms, screaming, and Sora’s emotional state.

“Then we’ll leave him. He’s hurt too badly. You saw it! He got hit in the chest by a slab of concrete!”

“Riku!” Sora cried, ripping away from his friend and giving him a look of complete betrayal.

“What?” he snapped, fists balled as he let anger crack through his mask. “We can only carry one person!” he argued, leaving his place to step to the side, bending at the knees to pick up someone he hadn’t noticed. Xion was limp in the older boy’s arms, blood matting the hair on the side of her head, trailing down to her shoulder and staining her pastel t-shirt.

“He can walk!” Sora shouted back, grabbing at Cloud’s good hand to reassure himself that, yes, Cloud was okay.

“He’s coughing up blood!”

“Not much—“

“What if he passes out?”

“Riku!”

“I’m not dragging his ass—“

“We need to get back to the house.” Aerith spoke then, voice taunt and clipped. Her fingers had stopped in Cloud’s hair, simply holding him now so he could breathe. Her face was blank and vacant, although Cloud could see a fire burning behind her green irises.

“Why?” Riku’s tone was so sharp that it hurt.

“Riku,” Sora pled, wringing his hands in front of him as he sniveled pathetically.

“Because Zack may have prepared something for us—“

“He knew too?” Sora squeaked, betrayal still shining bright in his eyes. “Why didn’t anyone tell us…?”

Aerith ignored him, shaking her head. “He stayed behind… He might have arranged an escort or—“

“And where are we gonna go?” Riku demanded, arms crossing over his chest.

Cloud coughed up more bubbling blood weakly, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he needed to or if he just wanted to diffuse the tension. Either way, it distracted Aerith enough to disengage the teen and go back to petting the hair on the back of Cloud’s head.

“He’s probably dead anyway.”

The words were only muttered as Riku turned away to face the destruction with Xion cradled to his chest, but Cloud saw it hit Aerith right on a tender nerve. He wondered if she was going to cry more, or if she was too dried up on tears to do so. There was a long moment silence, Sora’s eyes wide with the blunt words Riku so carelessly spoke, and Aerith was too busy trying to use Cloud as a distraction. He managed to control his coughing, looking at the tips of his fingers, which Sora had dropped in favor of turning on Riku, at the blood there. The color was bright red, a little watery, but it didn’t seem to be very thick. His lungs hurt, but not something bad… He would chalk it up to internal bleeding now and worry about the less-fatal things later.

Aerith sighed a few moments later, gently moving Cloud so she could stand. She offered her hands to him, looking down at his twisted, clearly broken arm, which Cloud had avoided looking at. “Can you stand? We need to start moving.”

He wanted to say yes, but he didn’t have the strength for that. He tried to sit up, but he had to bite back a cry of pain at the stabbing sensation that his broken ribs were giving him. Face full of concern, Sora ran to his side and helped him, Aerith grabbing his hand. Riku stood off to the side unhappily as Cloud was eventually brought to his feet with a grimace on his face.

“We need to get you a splint for your arm,” Sora ventured, holding Cloud’s good side. “How…?”

“Hold him steady,” Aerith instructed, letting go of Cloud’s good arm and bustling over to the ruin that used to be their truck. Cloud watched in wonder as she ripped off the padded frame of the rear window, snapping two long pieces off. She looked around a little longer before reaching down the hem of her sundress. Ripping off the lacey fringe, she came back, gesturing for Cloud to let her have at his arm. “This is going to hurt, but I have to set the bone enough that it won’t get worse. We have medical supplies back at the house, but this should hold you over.”

If “this won’t hurt a bit” was a lie, “this is going to hurt” was a massive understatement.

He was barely able to hold back a scream as Aerith’s hands snapped his arm back into place, and Sora cringed visibly. Aerith quickly wrapped up his arm with what she had before running a hand through his dirt-matted hair, this time searching for a bump.

“Are you okay?” Sora whimpered, not liking the paleness to his brother’s face. But Cloud gave him a small nod, and he seemed pleased.

“You hit your head on the roof of the cab when we got hit. You should probably rest,” Aerith confessed, eyes searching him for any other injuries. She had to admit, he was strong. Even if he _did_ look like he was about to pass out. She gave him a small smile and turned to show him her back, hands reaching out beside herself. “Climb on.”

He blinked in surprise, hesitating a moment to check to make sure she was being serious before he shook his head. “I can’t. I weigh too much for you—“

“No you don’t,” she argued, looking over her shoulder and offering a tight smile. He was surprised she could even get her tear-stained face to allow such an expression. “Trust me. I don’t want you passing out and falling on anything that could hurt you further.”

Cloud and Sora shared uneasy glances before he took her for her word. Sora helped him maneuver as Aerith crouched a bit, Cloud’s good arm going around her neck as his legs wrapped around her middle and the poorly splinted arm hung at his side. He leaned heavily against her back to keep steady, nearly holding her in a chokehold. Her hands grasped the back of his knees and she lifted him with a little exerted huff, but she didn’t sway. Looking over her shoulder again, she grinned.

“You’re not so heavy, y’know.”

Sora gave a relieved sort of giggle, but it did little to help lighten the sudden weight of their situation.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Cloud had an entirely new perspective from the brunette’s back, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

He could see the destruction all around him, the sun beating down on it all too brightly. Smoke rose from the hoods of crushed cars, and dust still rained down on them from above. He had no idea how he and the others had survived, even at the cost of his arm and ribs. He didn’t know how they had dragged him out of the truck, but when he looked over at the ruins, he saw that the only damage was an iron bar across the hood. The piece of concrete that had pinned him to the ground was right beside it, and he wondered if he had been hit when they pulled his unconscious body from the truck. He saw glinting metal and squinted, his sword lying completely unharmed in the back of the truck. Sora noticed his gaze and ran over to it, grabbing his bag out first before he tried the sword. Cloud would have laughed at the other’s effort if the situation had been different and it didn’t hurt to breathe.

“Just drag it,” Cloud suggested as Sora managed to pry it out of the bed, wincing when it clattered to the cement. If he really needed to, he could sharpen it again later.

Sora did as instructed, and the four of them began to move. Riku led, keeping far in front of them with a head start he had gained and not looking back to see if they were following. Sora had enough sense to leave him alone with Xion, walking beside Aerith through the rubble, dragging the sword noisily behind him. They were just barely over halfway home, and none of them were looking forward to the walk. It was made even worse by the debris that they climbed over, and Cloud was surprised Aerith’s arms held out for close to an hour before Cloud had to get down. He used his sword as a crutch when Sora insisted, fighting his way through the rubble. Cloud was battling his own fading consciousness the entire way, but at least Sora was talking to him to keep him focused.

“When it hit the car, we all panicked. We managed to get out, and we dragged you out because you passed out, and we laid you on the road to make sure you were okay. The cement fell and hit the car and rolled onto your chest, and we tried to pull you out… We thought you were dead.” He cleared his throat, playing with the handle on his bag, which he had retrieved with Cloud’s sword. Some blood wiped off from his thumbs onto the fabric. “Xion hit her head on the window, and there was a lot of glass. We dunno if she’s…” He swallowed, shaking his head as if trying to clear the memory. He was silent for a few minutes, carefully helping Cloud over a slab of concrete. He glanced up to see sweat breaking out on his brother’s brow and wasn’t all that surprised – he was sweating too, after all. But Cloud was so pale, and the blood dried on his lips turned fresh whenever he licked them. He wasn’t coughing anymore, but Sora’s concern was still high. He had been unconscious for fifteen minutes before this, and now… Was he really okay? He was so pale, and his eyes were so unfocused that it was a wonder he could even walk around, even if his teeth digging into his lower lip to muffle the pain.

“When you were knocked out, you said Roxas’ name…”

Cloud didn’t outwardly respond, focusing on getting onto the next ledge of fallen concrete. He remembered what he had briefly hallucinated, and it was being reminded of it that made his chest throb something awful. He just proceeded to ignore it, letting Sora help him up.

“I miss him too.” Sora’s voice trembled a bit as he kicked a small bit of iron, watching it sail away from his foot and _clang_ against the side of a smashed sedan. He briefly looked at the car before focusing back on the ground. He didn’t want to see all the damage and death.

Cloud wanted to say something comforting. Really, he did. He just didn’t know _what_ to say. Roxas was a sore subject for both of them, but five years and plenty of casual therapy had helped them considerably. That still didn’t help the hole in their chests whenever they said the name. That still didn’t keep Cloud’s guilt away. He just cleared his throat, looking down as they scrambled up another mountain of smashed car parts and bits of the Upper Plate. When he finally opened his mouth to give _some_ sort of comfort, Riku shouted back to them from somewhere ahead, and it was a miracle they could hear him over all the car alarms.

“I found a doctor!”

Their shuffling steps turned into running at the news, Cloud hefting his sword and resting it on his shoulder as he chased after the others. They came to a stop around a massive medical truck that had an iron pole speared through the engine, the roof caving slightly under the weight of fallen cement. There was a man standing beside the van that was sitting on the bent-out tire, Xion propped in his lap as he carefully moved her hair around to take a look at the wound.

The man didn’t _look_ much like a doctor. His hair was long, dark, and slicked back, but long bangs hid his right eye from view. He wore a simple blue t-shirt with most of the buttons undone, and dog tags rested on the hollow of his bare collarbone. He didn’t look up as the others approached, too focused on his work with the girl in his lap. Reaching down to a duffle bag next to himself, he pulled out a roll of gauze and wrapped her head securely. Giving a warm smile, he allowed Riku to pick her up again.

“She should be fine. She’ll be out for a while, but don’t worry,” he informed gently, almost like a father to Riku’s concern. He stood up and wiped the blood off on his shorts, which Cloud found himself staring at.

He was wearing Hawaiian print swim trunks.

“Oh my,” he clucked, looking up and immediately noticing Cloud’s crude arm splint. “Wait here, I think I have something for that,” he announced before he ducked into the back of the truck. As soon as he was out of view, everyone was staring at Riku.

He sighed, shaking his head. “He has medical supplies; that’s all I know. He saw Xion and said he could help. Just accept what he has to offer.”

The man reemerged then, hurrying to Cloud’s side and gently running his fingers over the arm. He made a face, gesturing for Cloud to sit on an outcropping of debris as he got to work. “I guess I forgot about introductions. Can you really blame me for being a little shaken?” He sighed, warm breath washing over Cloud’s arm as he stared intently at the bruising that was starting to bloom. “Ooh, you got lucky. It didn’t break the skin, and it seems to be just a fracture on your—“

“Who are you?” Aerith prodded, trying to get him back on track. Clearly, her emotional state was wearing on her patience.

He gave an apologetic smile to no one in particular as he removed the makeshift splint from Cloud’s arm, gently replacing it into the sling he had found. “Laguna Loire. I am—erm, _was_ –a nurse in Sector Seven. I was just moving equipment to bring to the hospital here when the Plate fell.”

Cloud didn’t want to think about all the patients that were either dead or weren’t going to get whatever Laguna was going to deliver.

He opened his mouth to give his own name, but his jaw snapped back in pain as his arm was bent and quickly wrapped up in stretched bandages before the sling was wrapped around his neck. Sora flinched again.

“I’m Aerith. I work at a foster home not far from here,” was the response, words tight with the effort to remain calm. “This is Cloud and his brother Sora,” she introduced, gesturing to the boys individually. “The girl you were treating is Xion, and the boy is Riku.”

Riku gave a stiff nod in response, taking a seat beside Cloud and cradling Xion on his lap. His shirt was sticking to his chest with sweat, and his arms were shaking even without holding her. He wouldn’t be able to carry her much farther, if at all.

“You live in this sector?” Laguna asked, voice sincere as he pressed on with the small talk. Cloud was thankful for that—it gave him something to focus on as the man looked at the blood on his lips before he gently prodded Cloud’s chest until he got a pained hiss at his ribs. “Oh dear,” he muttered under his breath, glancing up at Cloud briefly for permission before lifting his shirt.

“Yes,” she answered evenly, watching the nurse’s movements with the eye of a hawk. Cloud may have only been three years her junior, but she had a horrible maternal attachment.

“I’d suggest you get out of Midgar,” he recommended, well-practiced fingers feeling along the blond’s ribcage. He clicked his tongue and let Cloud’s shirt fall, disappearing into the back of the van again, avoiding Aerith’s shocked stare.

“I beg your pardon?” she squeaked when he reappeared, eyes wide. “We live here…”

“Look around. There’s nothing left here. Your house is crushed by now.” He wasn’t being harsh about it. Just stating fact. The tone was almost optimistic, and it made Cloud want to punch him. But it wasn’t a good idea to hurt the man that was wrapping his ribs back together.

Aerith didn’t say anything, lacing her fingers in front of her chest and lowering her head, as if she was praying.

Riku spoke up next, eyeing the man cautiously. “Then where else are we supposed to go? We can’t go back out there…”

“There isn’t much of a choice,” he disagreed, smiling as he tied off the bandages and let Cloud’s shirt drop once again. “I’ll be leaving the city as well, as soon as I get to my wife.”

“Where’s your wife?” Aerith’s voice was nearly a whisper.

“She’s in Sector Four,” he replied happily, almost giddy with the idea that his wife hadn’t been crushed. “It’s going to take a while to get there, but I’ll find her.”

“Thank you,” Cloud muttered abruptly, picking up his sword and using it to help himself stand. He startled as Laguna fished around in his shorts before thrusting a bottle at him.

“Aspirin. It might not take away all the pain, but it will certainly help.”

He read the label warily, remembering lectures from high school. _Don’t do drugs! Don’t take drugs from strangers!_

“If you leave Midgar, go west,” Laguna said hastily, watching as everyone began to rise. Aerith took Xion from Riku’s shaking arms, barely paying the doctor any mind. “There’s a college town about ten miles out called Balamb. My son and his group are stationed there. He isn’t the kindest boy you’ll meet, but I raised him well enough that he’ll be willing to share supplies, should you need it.”

Cloud nodded, assigning the information to the back corner of his mind for the moment. “Thank you, Laguna.”

He waved his hand, swatting the gracious words from the air. “Only doing my duty!”

“Can I ask a question?” Sora suddenly blurted, his eyes still locked on Laguna’s trunks. “Why are you wearing those?”

Laguna looked down in confusion, as if he had forgotten what he was wearing. It took him a moment before he looked back up at the incredulous teen before he laughed. How anyone could laugh in this situation was beyond any of their beliefs, but Laguna seemed completely unbothered by the hell around him. He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “When the engine got skewered, something sparked into the cab and my pants caught fire. These were the only other option I had. I didn’t exactly want to be in my briefs when someone came for help."

Sora gave a slow nod at the information, and the smoke coming from the front of the van seemed to confirm the man’s story. The stench of burning was strong, but it was unclear if it was from the medical van or everything else.

“Thank you for everything, but we should really be going,” Aerith cut across curtly, her hands holding tight onto Xion’s small thighs as the unconscious girl slumped against her back. “It was nice to meet you Laguna, and I wish there was a way we could repay you.”

“Oh, there is a way!”

Cloud shot Aerith a quick glare. He was happy with being bandaged up, even with the pills in his pocket, but something rubbed him the wrong way about this guy. He didn’t want to be owing him any favors. They had been helped out of selflessness, and they didn’t need to give him any kind of reward for that.

He held up a finger to gesture them to stay put before he dashed back into the rear of the truck, and Cloud shared a glance with Riku. They both wanted to _leave_ already—

Before they could form any sort of plan to get the hell out of there, Laguna returned with a small box in his hand. He held it out to Sora, who took it in confusion. He gave him a small smile, not quite as calm as the previous ones, as he stepped back. “If you do end up going to Balamb, could you please give this to a boy named Leon? Just in case his mother and I don’t get back to him…”

A heavy stone settled in Cloud’s gut, and he hated his compassion. Why were they troubled with such a burden? Why couldn’t he hand it off to some other survivor?

“Please?” he pushed, hands folding into the pockets of his trunks. “It isn’t much, but it would be a fitting farewell gift to him. I don’t think I’ll be leaving Midgar in one piece.”

“Don’t talk that way,” Sora begged, tears starting to glisten in his blue eyes as he tried to give the small box back. A ring could have fit inside, but not much else. “You’ll see him! You can give it to him yourself!”

The smile turned bitter. “Your hope is admirable, but in a world like this, it won’t get you very far. You can ignore the pain all you wish, Sora, but that only makes it worse when you turn to acknowledge it.”

* * *

 

The walk back to the house took hours, but they eventually made it back to the property in one piece, more or less. Xion had woken up after not too long and was able to walk on her own, but Aerith continued to hover. When they walked up their debris-covered driveway, however, Aerith couldn’t control herself so easily.

Cloud had never heard someone scream like that.

He barely had any time to react as Aerith suddenly collapsed in a sobbing heap on the ground, too transfixed to move a muscle. The house was completely leveled in front of them, the gardens flattened, the trees uprooted and mangled with debris. If they had not seen their mailbox sticking out under a piece of warped iron, they wouldn’t have even known it was _their_ home. The destruction was horrible, and soon Sora was crying too. Riku was just staring just as numbly as Cloud was, and Xion was clinging to Aerith’s fallen form. It took a few moments for Cloud to unthaw his brain from the shock, and when he did, he dropped his sword and ran to the remains of the house with a name on his lips.

_“Zack!”_

The scream was desperate and raw, and Cloud wasn’t even sure that it had really been his voice. Riku snapped into action at the noise and pressed the injured blond away, digging and ripping through the rubble to find spiky black hair and a smirk. Cloud couldn’t stand being idle and soon helped, ribs screaming at him but mind too focused to care. The dried blood in his mouth tasted like poison as he searched, desperate. Zack had to be here! He _had_ to be—!

The sound of helicopter blades were hardly registered as they searched, but Sora’s shout of “It’s the military!” was enough to get them to stop at the prospect of help. The wind from the blades whipped the trees and dust around as it landed uneasily on a slab of fallen concrete, and it became clear that the logo was not one of the military, but one of ShinRa. Which, really, was the same thing when in Midgar.

Aerith was on her feet before the blades had stopped, running at the helicopter with such a fury in her eyes that Cloud feared for the life of the machine. A man in a suit stepped out soon after, red ponytail flying in the wind as Aerith crashed into him and he merely held her as if exchanging a hug. The engine died and the blades slowed down as another man stepped out, bald head gleaming in the all too bright sunlight. He glanced at Cloud and the others from behind dark sunglasses before approaching his partner, tugging him by the shoulder to separate him from Aerith.

“What did you do?” she sobbed, hands wringing in front of her. “ _Why?_ ”

“Reno?” Cloud mumbled, more to himself than anyone else as he limped closer, breath hard from the exertion and his injuries. Everyone gathered around the chopper, Reno’s face stricken and pale. He looked so much _older_ than Cloud had remembered…

“We need to get you out of here. Elmyra’s request.”

Aerith hiccuped, eyes wide as she forced her tears to stop. “M-Mom…? She’s okay?”

He gave a nod, glancing to his partner. Without a word, the bulking man headed off to the wreckage. Cloud almost followed, but Reno’s words stopped him.

“We’re taking the kids up to the Plate.”

Aerith blinked owlishly, not comprehending. Xion grabbed her hand and she numbly squeezed it back, searching Reno’s eyes and unkempt form for an answer. “The Plate…?”

“Xion, Riku, Sora,” he clarified, eyes darting to each child as he named them. “You and Cloud need to get the hell out of here. You can’t come with us.”

“I’m not letting you take Sora,” Cloud spat, staggering forward as his blood churned like sharp ice in his gut. Like _hell_ they were taking his brother from him! “He’s all I have left!”

“Just procedure, Blondie,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair before tapping the lens of the aviator goggles perched on his temple. “We got five minutes before Boss notices we’re off course.”

“You’re not taking him!” he shouted, grabbing Sora by the upper arm and yanking him to his side. “Either it’s both of us, or neither!”

Reno’s look hardened, and Cloud’s entire body went cold with horror. He watched as Reno pulled a compact pistol from his pocket, and soon he was staring down the barrel. “I really don’t wanna shoot ya.”

“Reno!” Aerith cried, rushing forward to grab the gun. But the burly man was back and grabbed her arms, holding her steady. The two men shared another brief glance before Reno sighed, keeping the pistol level.

“The military’s doing a sweep. You guys have an hour to get the hell outta town before they mow ya down.”

“Let us take the kids somewhere safe,” the bald man spoke, his voice unnaturally soft for his appearance. Aerith went slack in his grip.

Cloud’s mind was flying a mile a minute. He didn’t want to separate from Sora, but Reno had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to be accompanying him. If Sora was taken to the Plate, he would be safe. The center of the Plate hadn’t fallen, and Cloud knew that those were the more residential areas. If Sora was taken up there, he would be safe, he would get the best rations, the best care, and he would be _safe_.

“Go.”

Sora’s color immediately drained as Cloud shoved him forward, eyes going wide. “Cloud!” he began to argue, but Reno’s hand clamped down on his shoulder to shut him up. The gun lowered and Aerith was released, no one daring to move.

“You’ll be safe up there. I’ll come back for you when we figure out what’s going on. I’m not abandoning you,” Cloud promised, not even knowing what he was saying anymore. This had to be some kind of fucked-up nightmare. He was still in bed, Zack making bacon, helping him scramble the eggs… “I love you, Sora. Be safe. I’ll come back for you, okay? Just hang in there.”

Reno gave a final nod and he started to drag Sora towards the black helicopter waiting for them. It took a few seconds before Sora knew what was happening and he was kicking and screaming, even as Reno tossed him bodily into the cockpit. Riku and Xion were numbly led away by the other man, Xion and Aerith sharing a long moment before Aerith kissed the girl’s forehead bandages and watched her leave. Reno gave them a small wave before the blades started up again, drowning out Sora’s cries of protest and Xion’s own sobbing.

And just like that, they were gone.

Cloud stared at the sky, even when the little black dot was gone. He felt like he should be crying, or screaming, or _something_ , but he could only stand there, completely numb.

Aerith had turned away and was delicately picking through the rubble that the bald man had been going through earlier. Perhaps she was looking for smashed heirlooms, or that friendly smile. An abrupt sob broke Cloud from his trance and he slowly turned, spotted Aerith, and headed over.

And fell _straight_ to his knees.

Zack’s body was crushed under the beams of the house, dusty, broken shingles from the roof littering his hair. Blood had dried around his mouth and his eyes were open in a glassy stare, one arm outstretched as if he had died trying to claw his way out of the mess. Aerith was crying with her face in her hands, eyes wide and staring at him as if she didn’t believe it. Cloud just sat on his knees, reaching out with shaking fingers as he picked chunks of clay shingles from his friend’s hair. His throat was blocked and he found it hard to breathe, let alone speak some sort of words of comfort. Zack was dead, his brother was gone, his home was destroyed…

And he couldn’t even _begin_ to process.

He didn’t know how long they had sat near Zack’s body, but the sky was turning orange as sunset neared, and there was the rumble of approaching cars. Reno’s warning stung in the back of Cloud’s mind and he moved first, staggering to his feet and tugging Aerith up. She seemed to notice too and nodded, leaving Zack’s body with a choked sob as she began moving debris off the cellar door. Cloud went back to where he had dropped his sword, freezing when he saw a bag on the ground nearby. Chewing his lip, he wrapped the bloody fabric handle around his wrist and hurried back to where Aerith was climbing down, following her into a basement that he didn’t even know was there as the cars got closer.

As soon as Cloud shut the overhead door, darkness enclosed all around them. He squinted in the scarce light before Aerith located  battery-powered lamp, basking the surprisingly large area in a golden glow. The room was so big that Cloud couldn’t even see the walls, but glinting chrome caught his eye.

“Is that—?”

It seemed a little inappropriate for his attitude to change so suddenly, but he couldn’t help it as he sat the bag and sword down on the floor, stepping across the hard-packed dirt to the shining black paint of his old motorcycle. Aerith gave him a small, forced smile as he moved around the room, grabbing one of the saddle bags off the floor and stuffing it with canned food and medical supplies.

“Zack had been working on it. He… he was going to give it to you for your twentieth birthday, but he kept finding reasons to delay it.”

Cloud just nodded slowly, hand hesitantly reaching out and stroking the new coat of paint and leather seat. It didn’t even _feel_ like the same bike, let alone look like it. But he knew. He just _did_. “He modded it for off-roading,” he noted quietly, hand lowering to the massive wheels. “He made it stronger… Like he knew I wasn’t going to stay…”

“We didn’t think you would,” she answered softly, crossing over and tying the bag to the massive bike before grabbing up the second one. “We thought you would take Sora and leave as soon as you were of age… We were happy you stayed.”

He just gave a slow nod before he seemed to come back to reality, watching Aerith pack. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not stupid,” she said stiffly, as if she was about to cry if he dared to argue. Which he wouldn’t. “I know we can’t stay here… There’s nothing left to stay for.” She paused, looking up as the cars stopped.

The lamp was turned off and they waited with bated breath, eyes staring up in the darkness as if they could see everything. There was a single gunshot nearby before a loud shout warning against wasting ammunition before the car doors were slamming shut and the engines restarted and drove off. And then, silence.

“Very detailed sweep,” Cloud muttered sarcastically as the light came back on, Aerith tucking the second bag against the bike. He frowned at her, not liking the stoic front she put up. But maybe she was just like him. Overloaded and in shock. “Do we just… leave now?”

There was a tight-lipped smile across her wet, teary face as she looked to the cellar doors, where they would need to push the bike out. She gave a little nod, tears flowing anew. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

Cloud gave a minute sigh at her words before he strapped his Fusion Sword to the side of the bike, where Zack had conviently mounted a sheath for such a weapon (though it was most likely for bedding or larger cargo) before he stuffed Sora’s bag into one of the saddlebags, not wanting to look at it. It still seemed like a nightmare, like Sora would just be waiting for him just outside of the cellar…

“Should we wait a night?”

Cloud blinked in surprise, the quiet tone of Aerith’s words just barely a whisper. He hesitated, watching the way her body trembled, as if she was cold. He wanted to agree with her, to get some sleep and maybe some food, but he knew he couldn’t just _stay._ She was right, after all. There was nothing to stay for. And if they stayed, all they would get was more hesitation. They had to go before they could find more ghosts to keep them there.

“We need to go,” he answered dully, stepping up to the door and pushing it open before heading back for the bike. The only heading they had was what Laguna had said, but they didn’t even know if they would be able to get out of Midgar. What if the gates were blocked off?

There was only one way to find out.

“Wait,” Aerith spluttered, hands grabbing at a shovel that was leaning in the corner. “We need to… give him a proper burial.”

Cloud wasn’t sure if she was stalling or not, but he found himself nodding and helping her upstairs. They cleared an area of debris near where the garden had been, Aerith digging at the soft earth while Cloud downed an Aspirin (he was still skeptic about the drugs, but he needed to distract from his pain) and headed over to where Zack lay.

He was still half-buried in the rubble, eyes shut from when Aerith had closed them for him. The only difference was a hole in the center of his head, right between the eyes, where a bullet had lodged, stagnant blood visible, but no longer flowing.

He felt angry. Why the _hell_ would the military’s asshole soldiers shoot someone that was already clearly deceased? He understood that zombies were killed with a bullet through the brain, but Zack hadn’t been bitten. There weren’t any zombies to do the biting in Midgar. So why…?

He pushed the thought away as he fought to get Zack’s body uncovered, the Aspirin doing very little for his pain. But he grit his teeth as he uncovered the body, reaching down to grab his arm. The flesh was cold and bruised under his fingers, but Cloud tried not to pay attention to that. It took a lot of maneuvering, but he eventually managed to swing Zack’s body onto his back, half-dragging him over to where Aerith was feverishly digging the grave with tears streaking down her face. Zack was gently placed down beside it and Cloud tried to help, but Aerith shooed him away due to his injuries. So he simply sat at the edge of the hole, staring up at the gaping hole where the Plate had once been.

How long had it been since he had truly seen the sky?

Zack’s burial took longer than Cloud had expected, and the sun had long since set as they piled the dirt in after his body. Exhaustion was tugging at their bones when they finally finished, and Cloud left Aerith to say her final words. He hadn’t said anything, his mind barely even processing what was going on any longer. He couldn’t even cry.

He stepped back into the cellar and used the lantern to look around, a little surprised to notice that the place was set up like a bunker. There was a stack of thin mattresses in one corner, and Cloud set about pulling two away from the wall for he and Aerith to use. He debated grabbing some food, as he hadn’t eaten since that morning, but he didn’t feel particularly hungry. Rather it was because of the pain or the mind-numbing state he was in, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the mattress was surprisingly comfortable and he was asleep before Aerith returned.


	8. Chapter 8

  
Cloud felt the pain in his fractured bones first, but as soon as his mind awoke to the sensations, it began replaying the previous day’s events. The sword purchase, the old psychic’s tears, the Plate falling, Wall Market being crushed, the Plate falling again onto their car, his dream about Roxas, Laguna’s words of advice, their crushed home, Zack’s death, Reno taking Sora from him…

He had the sudden urge to vomit.

His eyes opened slowly, lids sticking briefly with dried tears and caked-on sleep. The room was dark, and for a moment, he didn’t know where he was. He expected to roll over and topple from his bunk, waking up Sora in the process. He expected to smell leftover bacon, to hear the shower running as Riku got dibs on the bathroom first.

But all he got when he rolled over was pain and a dirt floor.

The guilt slammed into him so quickly that he couldn’t breathe for a moment. Roxas was gone, because of him. Because he had shot his own brother’s brains out five years ago. And now Sora was gone, taken away by the person that brought them here in the first place, because of him. Because he had shoved his brother away and pled for him to be safe. Zack was dead because Cloud didn’t confront him about what he had overheard. He hadn't tried to get Zack somewhere safe. Everyone was gone, dead, and it was his fault. Everything was  _his_  fault. Why wasn’t he dead instead? Why hadn’t he bitten the metaphorical bullet years ago? Why the hell had he  _ever_  thought that everything would be okay?

“Cloud?”

He kept staring at the dirt as Aerith approached him, seeing her feet and the torn edge of her sundress as she knelt down. He couldn’t even bring himself to blink, feeling as if his entire body had frozen in place as his mind attacked him from every conceivable direction. Guilt, anger, loss, pain—even things he couldn’t name were flashing through him, and he felt like he was either going to be sick or explode. He couldn’t even bring himself to react as Aerith carefully placed him back onto the bed, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. He winced at the coldness of it, sighing when she pulled it away and he was able to shut his eyes.

“You’re ice cold. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked over the single syllable, tongue licking at dry lips. He was thirsty…

“Can you sit up? I have some breakfast. We should leave soon, so eat if you can.”

When he didn’t move on his own, Aerith helped him, turning his mattress so he could lean against the concrete wall. His dull eyes only blinked slowly as she handed him a bowl of dry cereal and a water bottle. He drank the bottle dry, but only picked at the corn flakes, eyes unfocused as Aerith sat across from him on her own mattress.

Aerith looked like hell had chewed her up and spat her right back out again. There was dirt all over her hands and her bare legs and even her tattered dress, and her sandals had been removed to show crude tan lines and more dirt. Her hair was a rat’s nest, just barely staying the long braid that she always kept it in. Even her little pink bow seemed to droop, just like the bags under her puffy red eyes.

If she looked that bad, Cloud didn’t want to see a mirror.

“Sora will be alright,” she blurted after a moment, ducking her head to make eye contact with him. “I know you’re probably in a lot of pain with your bones, but… we do have to move. We’ll go to Sector Five, where my mom is, and—“

“We have to get out of Midgar,” Cloud cut across, tone sharp and frigid. Aerith stiffened at the words, taken aback by the emotion boiling in his otherwise empty eyes. His face, however, was just as unexpressive as it always was. “We have to get out of here. Don’t you get it? They destroyed two sectors already. Who’s to say they won’t destroy more? We _have_ to get out.”

“I’m not going out there,” was the tense reply, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “We’re safe here—“

“How can you say that?” he snarled, emotion finally twisting his features. His fingers tightened around the plastic bowl that his cereal was in, knuckles going white as the plastic creaked. “How the  _hell_  can you say that? Zack’s dead! The house is gone! Sora’s gone, and so are Xion and Riku! Everything is gone, Aerith! How the  _fucking hell_ can you say we’re safe?” His voice had risen in volume as well as octave, hysteria working into the words.

Before Aerith could respond, he got to his feet, dropping the cereal and half-stomping over to the motorcycle. Teeth grit through the pain of his ribs and arm, he straddled the bike and gave her an expectant look.

“We’ll go to Balamb.”

She blinked, slowly rising to her bare feet. “But my mom—“

“You can go if you want. I’m getting out of here. There’s nothing left to stay for. The least I can do is accept Laguna’s request and go see this Leon guy.” He turned back to the bike, finding the key already in the ignition. He turned it, stomping on the clutch, and the bike roared to life beneath him. Driving with one hand was going to be problematic, but he had done it before. He needed to do it now.

Before he could ride it up the stairs, Aerith had gently taken a seat behind him, her hand on his back. Without even looking at her, he grabbed the helmet from the handlebars and passed it to her, not checking to see if she had it on before his hand twisted the accelerator, pushing off from the dirt floor and rearing back as the bike climbed the stairs with surprising ease. The tires Zack had put on were  _huge_.

He only wished he could have thanked him for it.

Aerith was quiet as Cloud managed to maneuver the bike through the rubble, her hand occasionally coming forward to hold the handle when he needed the extra help. Soon, he had made it to the path that the military truck had cleared yesterday, speeding up and refusing to look back at the disaster of their home or the pile of freshly turned dirt where Zack’s body lay. His mind went into a state of numbness as he drove the path towards the farthest outside wall, as if he was still asleep. He couldn’t feel anything beyond the pain in his bones and the trembling of the bike beneath him, but right about then, that was all he  _cared_  to feel.

It took them a silent hour to get to the wall, and the motorcycle hesitated when they reached the gate.

“Where are the guards?” Aerith whispered in the silence that followed the dying engine, Cloud busy looking around for someone— _anyone_  –that looked to be of military or ShinRa forces. The only thing there, however, was a gate that was wide open, leading to a cement path littered with dried blood and bullet shells.

“I don’t like this,” Cloud muttered, kicking the stand on his bike so it could hold itself up as he dismounted. Aerith stayed on the bike with the helmet still protecting her, watching warily as Cloud toed through the rubble, looking for bodies. The small office by the gate was open, the door half off the hinges as if it had been torn from its place. Looking inside, tables and chairs were flipped and a massive filing cabinet had been turned on its side, emptied of its contents. Frowning, he slowly walked back to the bike, eying the gates as if they would slam shut any moment.

He sighed and got back on the bike, the rational part of his mind insisting that the military had been evacuated before the Plate fell and looters had come around overnight. It made sense for the station to be empty, but the presence of looters (who looted immigrant papers anyway?) and the wide open state of the gate was not putting him at ease whatsoever.

“Should we stay?”

“We can’t,” he shot back, popping up the kickstand and starting the roaring engine to drown out anymore of Aerith’s words, heading out into the open.

The world had apparently changed a  _lot_  in five years.

The subtle ruin that had once plagued the world with its empty homes and abandoned cars had taken a turn for the  _much_  worse. The road was only visible because there was no grass on it, but even the grass had seen better times. There was unidentifiable rubble for as far as Cloud could see—Every building that had once stood had been leveled and burned. He had heard the bombs a year ago, but he thought it had just been the reactors up on the Plate. But now the world outside looked as if it had been attacked by a series of bulldozers and flamethrowers. Trees and any other unfortunate vegetation was torn up and dead, although grass and weeds still sprung up in the cracks of cement. Even the sky was darker, something he hadn’t noticed when he looked up at the raw sky when the Plate fell. The clouds seemed to be made of pure smoke, the smell of ash and decay hanging pitifully in the air. He had heard rumors that the blackened color was from so many burning bodies and homes, but that didn’t mean he had _believed_ it. Seeing this… it was like taking reality taking a bite out of him and leaving him to bleed out. He would have cried at the sight, if he hadn’t expected it.

“There really isn’t anything left, is there, Cloud…?”

He pretended that he didn’t hear her over the bone-shaking rumbles of the bike.

The sign for Balamb would have been passed by completely if it hadn’t been lying in the center of the “road”. Aerith dismounted to move it, giving Cloud a thin smile through the tinted shield of the black helmet, looking forward at the road before them. The four-lane highway was mostly covered up by debris and the shells of cars, but there was a big enough space for the bike. The whole city, just like Midgar’s outer edges, had been totally leveled. Skeletons of industrial buildings hung here and there, but nothing large enough to be considered a shelter. The brief sense of hope they had had for the possibility of other survivors was quickly becoming nonexistent. No one could live in a place like this.

A fallen church steeple blocked their path and Cloud turned, taking a smaller side road through the disaster. He kept his eyes on the cracked pavement, looking for a way out of the town. There was nothing else to do but continue east…

A gunshot ripped through the air and the handlebars jerked from Cloud’s control, the front wheel shredding as it slammed into a hunk of warped metal that was once a car, the two of them being thrown from the seats and into the rubble. He couldn’t help crying out in pain at the sudden shifting of his bones, hearing Aerith whimper in pain as she rolled to a stop not far from him.

He sat up fast, ignoring the road burn on his body and the throbbing pain in his skull as he crawled over to Aerith, grabbing the dented helmet and pulling it off of her. She whined at him, arms wrapped tight around her body. The relief was brief, however, as he looked at her properly. Her skin was scabbed and bloody on her arms and legs, the unfortunate consequence of road burn and the lack of proper clothing. He sighed and sat up straighter, eyes narrowed as he scanned the area for their attacker. He was only met with silence, the rumbling of the bike having settled with the abrupt stop. The wind brushed his hair aside, easily blowing through the levelled area. The only obstruction was iron scaffolding at the end of the small road, and it was there that Cloud found movement.

“Stay down,” he hissed, ducking his own head in a poor attempt to hide behind the bike before them. His eyes were locked on the scaffolding as he watched someone drop down, the sound of shouting far off. The wind ripped away the exact words, but he didn’t find the tone very reassuring.

“What’s going on?” Aerith whispered after a moment of silence, pushing herself up beside Cloud to find what he was so intently staring at. “I don’t see anything…”

He held up his hand to gesture for her silence, squinting against the sunlight to make out a single man half-running towards them. In one hand, he held the rifle he had used to blow out the tire, the other hand holding his cowboy hat to ensure that it didn’t blow off of his head.

Cloud moved fast, not wanting to sit around to find out if they were about to be finished off or not. He edged towards where the bike lay, grabbing at the hilt of the Fusion Sword and planting a foot firmly on the bike it was crushed beneath. Kicking and pulling, he eventually got the blade free, using it to help him stand to face their attacker. Aerith brought herself up beside him, legs shaking as she cautiously put a hand on his arm as if to try and coax him out of his fighting stance, or perhaps just to try to calm herself.

The sniper stopped about ten feet away from them, weapon lowering to his side. The rifle hit the ground and he moved slowly, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. “I ain’t gonna shoot.”

Cloud scowled, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword to hide the fact that his arm was shaking with the effort of holding it up. Steering one-handed for so long had been more work than he had thought. “You already did,” he sneered, shifting his stance so Aerith was behind him.

“Yeah, sorry—“

“Why shoot us and then make sure we’re okay?”

The man frowned, reaching up to remove his hat from his head. Aerith took a sharp breath behind Cloud’s shoulder, her fingers gripping his arm even tighter. Even Cloud was surprised, recognition finally slamming him in the chest as soon as he took in the brown ponytail, leather vest, and the black cowboy hat that was now held in front in a sign of surrender.

“Irvine?” Aerith barely whispered, letting go of Cloud and taking a slow step towards the sniper. Cloud lowered the sword, watching her apprehensively. She was fighting a smile, eyes wide as she battled hope and doubt. Her hands curled into weak fists at her side, Cloud’s attention being diverted back to the shooter before he could catch on to what was going on.

“I thought it was you when your helmet came off… God, I’m so sorry, Aerith! I didn’t know—“

As soon as her name had left the man’s mouth, she was off like a bullet. She bounded over the debris in the road without care for her road burn or bare feet, being wrapped in his waiting arms as he caught her and spun her around in a tight embrace.

Cloud was  _beyond_  lost.

“God, I thought you were dead!” she half-sobbed as her feet met the ground again, burying her face against her chest as Cloud began picking his way through the rubble over to them.

“You’re the one that got crushed! How the hell did you get outta Midgar? I barely got outta there!”

Aerith abruptly pulled away, but she was still being held close by the hands on her shoulders. She blinked owlishly, searching the man’s face for answers. “You were in Midgar…?”

“I was working the tent in Wall Market that day because Leon didn’t—“

“ _You_  were in Wall Market?” Her voice had risen to an incredulous screech, staring at him in a mixture of anger and shock. She ignored Cloud as he stopped beside her, pulling her hand back and slapping Irvine on the face so hard that Cloud thought he heard his neck crack.

Frowning, he let go to rub at the reddening wound. “I’ve only been a couple times, when Leon or Larxene couldn’t make the trip—“

“Why didn’t you visit?” she interrupted, hurt that he wouldn’t even bother to stop by.

“I’m on a tight schedule. I didn't know where you were, either.”

“But…”

He just gave a small shrug before his eyes found Cloud, seeming relieved at the easy topic change. “The Fusion Sword came in handy after all, huh?”

The sword in question shifted against his shoulder as he propped it up, eyes briefly scanning the area before flicking back to Irvine. “Why are you out here in the middle of nowhere, shooting at anyone that passes by?”

“Because he’s our guard.”

All eyes shifted at the addition of a third male, Cloud pivoting on the spot to face him. He stood by the bike, kicking at it in apparent distaste before slowly approaching them, belts clinking together as they criss-crossed his hips. The belts carried all kinds of holsters, but all of them appeared to be empty as the man stopped a few feet away. A weapon was raised, Cloud staring down the blade of a sword and into the barrel of a shotgun that had been grafted onto the blunt edge of the blade. He blinked as his eyes traveled up more, shifting to protect Aerith again as blue locked onto storming gray, eventually travelling to a deep scar between the man’s hostile eyes.

“Leon,” Irvine tested, putting a hand on Cloud’s shoulder as the Fusion Sword was raised in response. “Leon, this is Aerith. My cousin, remember? She’s alive, and this guy, he’s her friend—“

“Brother,” she corrected hurriedly, missing the confusion that briefly flickered across Cloud’s face at the word. Why  _brother_?

Irvine spoke quickly, the man’s eyes not leaving Cloud. “They’re both hurt. Can’t they stay—“

“We can’t trust them.”

“But Aerith—“

“She can stay.” His eyes briefly darted to Aerith’s pale face before he re-focused on Cloud. “He goes.”

“Leon—“

“Shut up,” he growled, finger flicking the safety off as he shifted to hold the blade with both hands, aiming right at Cloud’s skull. “Get out of here.”

Cloud’s mind was going a mile a minute as Irvine’s hand tightened its grip and Aerith whimpered behind him in fear. This man’s name was Leon, but where had he heard that? Right, the doctor on the freeway that gave him a sling and patched up Xion! Damn, what was his name…?

“Laguna sent us,” he blurted abruptly. The name made the malice in Leon’s eyes flicker, but his aim stayed true. He felt Irvine stiffen beside him. “He told us to come to Balamb and find a man named Leon. He said he was your father—“

“He’s not my father anymore. He’s dead,” Leon growled, the malice returning almost instantly.

“He gave us something to give to you!” he finished quickly, sword hitting the ground as his strength drained. “It’s in the saddle bag on the left, in a little black box…” He doubted that Leon would let him move to retrieve it, but he was surprised when the gunblade lowered from his head down to aim at his torso. A nod was given to Irvine and the sniper moved, placing his hat back on as he jogged over to the bike and began the search.

“Where did you meet Laguna?” came the level question, Leon’s voice abruptly empty of the anger he had once held, as if keeping the emotion up was too much work.

“After Sector Six fell, we met him on the freeway in a medical van,” Aerith supplied, one hand clasped to the back of Cloud’s t-shirt and the other close to her heart. “He fixed Cloud up and—“

“Hey, Leon! He got it!”

The gunblade was lowered completely as its wielder turned around as Irvine sprinted over to him, shoving the little jewelry box into his hand. Eyebrows furrowed to the point that his scar scrunched up, Leon took the box and gently pried it open. Any bitter emotion left on his face immediately drained when he saw the contents, picking out a small memory card from the inside of the box, too big to be from a camera but too small to work as a USB. Cloud and Aerith watched in confusion as the card was placed back with extreme care, the two men sharing hushed words before Leon turned and headed back the way he had come. Irvine offered them a smile and gestured for them to follow, which Aerith did right away. Cloud hesitated, however, not sure if he wanted to follow after the people that had nearly killed him. But Aerith grabbed him by the hem of the shirt, and he allowed himself to be pulled after the two men.

They stepped off the road and into the bigger bits of debris, crossing over and around bits of fallen buildings until they came to a small area that only consisted of one wall and a stairwell that went down. Leon pulled a key ring off of one of his belts and picked through the keys before he found one that would unlock the heavy cement door at the bottom of the steep stairs, swinging it open and walking in. The door led to a second door, but a hallway stretched out in both directions on either side. Leon took a left and Irvine took a right, taking Aerith and, eventually, Cloud with him as the door shut behind them.

There was electricity, which Cloud knew immediately. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling were dim and flickered occasionally, but it was better than the pitch-blackness that surely held the place otherwise. The hallway itself reminded Cloud of a hotel, a door every few feet with a number on a plate on the wooden door. The carpet was the cheap industrial stuff though, and the walls were made of heavy concrete blocks that had been messily painted with white. He thought it really was just a shitty hotel until they walked past a kitchenette area with words stenciled on the glass door, reading  _East Campus: Lower Level Certified Tornado Shelter Area._

“This is a college campus?” Aerith mused, her eyes scanning the words as well before she skipped ahead to keep up with Irvine.

“It was,” he answered easily, pushing open a fire door and stepping into a lobby-like area that had one wall devoted entirely to mail slots. “Balamb Garden was the biggest private school in the area. It was a prep school that got remodeled into just a regular old high school. All the buildings are obviously gone, but because of the heavy ice in the winter, they had all these underground places. Every dormitory has a basement level like this, and that,” he paused, pointing to a set of heavy doors beside a main desk area, “leads out to the tunnels. You can virtually never leave the underground. The tunnels can take you to every educational building, the cafeteria, the gym, the library—and every building has a basement, but most of them are just storage we had to grab master keys to get to. Obviously they weren’t planning for this place to be used as a base, but…” he trailed off and shrugged, giving a sheepish smile at his wordy explanation. They crossed the small lobby quietly before another door was pushed open, leading to another hallway with dorm rooms inside.

“How long have you been here?” Cloud questioned as they entered another kitchenette. This one had been modified, however, and there were various medical supplies all around. Aerith and Cloud took a seat at a small table as Irvine began digging through the cupboards, grabbing a box of bandages.

“About a year and a half, I think,” he answered after a moment, crossing back over to them and setting the box down before going to the sink and grabbing a wash rag. “Leon went to school here, and he was able to clean out East Campus well enough that he could live in it after the outbreak. More students survived and joined him, but the place got overrun shortly after it started. He came back with me and the Almasy family a year ago, after we lived in Midgar for a couple years, and we’ve been picking up travelers to keep population up. We managed to clear East Campus and West Campus, ‘cause most of the biters had teetered off from starvation down here.” He gave a dry laugh, briefly turning on the tap and running the cloth under the spray before handing it off to Aerith, who began to clean her own wounds. “Just tell me to shut up if I say too much, seriously.”

Cloud gave him a small smile, resting the sword on top of the table. “It’s alright. I’m just… surprised. At how secure you seem.”

He shrugged, sitting in a chair opposite Aerith to be close enough if she needed help. “I’m proud. Being able to stay anywhere for more than a week is a blessing in this damn place. And we’ve only lost one in a whole eighteen months.”

A slight nod was all Cloud gave him in response, more questions swimming in his brain than he could properly speak. So he settled for watching Aerith stick band-aids on herself in silence, the woman smiling brightly when she finished. Before Cloud could ask what would happen now, Irvine was putting things away and speaking again.

“So why did you say Cloud was your brother? I mean, I know you’re an only child. There’s not the slightest similarity—“

“Cloud was orphaned. He came to us when he was seventeen, so I was never really a parental figure…”

“We’re friends,” Cloud argued, head tilting slightly. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because if Leon was willing to accept me because of my relation to Irvine, I thought…”

The shooter sighed, placing his palms on the counter by the sink and leaning back, looking up at a flickering light. “Leon’s not a people person. He’s reluctant to let anyone join our group, honestly. He probably just wants another girl around after Larxene practically threatened him about being the only one.”

“How many are here? People, I mean. Not just women.” Cloud blurted, not even knowing who Irvine was talking about.

Blue met blue as Irvine looked away from the ceiling, giving a small shrug in response. “Six, on a good day.”

“What does that mean?” Aerith prodded, scooting towards the edge of her seat.

“There’s seven of us total, but…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Never mind. If you guys end up staying, you’ll know what I mean.”

“Will we be able to?”

A small shrug was once again given as he took his seat, offering a hand for Aerith to hold. She was still trembling. “I dunno, Aer. I’m gonna try talking Leon into it, but having that memory card really helped your case.”

“What’s the big deal about a memory card?” Cloud muttered, shifting awkwardly in the metal chair to get more comfortable.

“Laguna said he was getting some information for us from Midgar. We didn’t actually think he’d end up with anything.”

“What sort of information?”

Irvine opened his mouth to answer, but it snapped shut into a scowl as he stood, blue eyes locked on the glass window of the door. Aerith twisted around to see, and Cloud tried, but the pain in his ribs made him stop short of the motion, settling to rise on his feet instead.

Leon pushed the door open, face just as blank and emotionless as it had been earlier. He gave a nod to Irvine and Aerith before cool gray settled on Cloud, taking a half step back into the hall. “Come with me. Cid wants to talk to you.”

Irvine visibly relaxed at the name, giving a reassuring smile as Cloud reached for his weapon. Whoever this Cid was, he wasn’t about to go in defenseless—

“Leave it. You won’t need it.”

He scowled, turning back to Leon. “Who’s Cid?”

“Just come with me.”

He didn’t really have much a say in the decision, giving Aerith a withering look before he followed Leon back out into the hall. Leon walked quickly back the way they had come (at least, that’s what way Cloud thought they were going. The hall looked the same either way) with the keys and belts clinking around his hips. The noise was slightly annoying, but Cloud was too focused on keeping up without falling to pay it that much mind. They had entered the lobby area before Leon noticed Cloud was lagging, arching a brow as the blond panted heavily at the light walk.

No sooner had the words “You don’t look so good” left Leon’s mouth, Cloud hit the floor.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance that this is a very info-heavy chapter and not much plot happens, but it is important, so there ya have it.

“Irvine?”

The name was spoken with the same softness of the hands that touched the plastic table, thin legs and arms folding neatly into the matching folding chair. The woman, pale with bags under once-bright green eyes, looked as if she had been woken from some terrible nightmare that had robbed her of desperately needed sleep. The fact that the man across from her was in the middle of cleaning a rifle didn’t seem to bother her at all—She didn’t even give the weapon a second glance.

Expressing enough concern to place the gun back on the table, Irvine reached across to hold one of his cousin’s trembling hands.

“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a—“

“I was told that Cloud is going to be _put down_.”

The words, emphasized by a weak tremble of a usually strong voice, caused that warm hand to leave hers. Irvine didn’t meet her eyes, simply gathering the parts and pieces of his rifle and beginning to put them back together as the emotional dam within the small woman before him began to crack.

“Irvine, please. You have to tell Leon that he can’t do this! He must have just passed out from shock, or pain, or _something!_ Cloud isn’t infected!”

It only took a small sigh and a simple “I can’t stop him” before that dam completely collapsed.

“You can’t just shoot him in his sleep! He isn’t showing any symptoms and I _know_ he never got bit! No one thought to discuss this with me—I had to _eavesdrop!_ I’ve never left Midgar in my life, and now I’m here, hiding underground with a bunch of strangers that are trying to kill—!” A choke.

She immediately dissolved into sobs, still attempting to get words out, but Irvine not understanding one bit of it. He simply put his rifle, still unassembled, back onto the table as his hands reached out for Aerith’s again. He simply waited for her to calm, giving a small smile when she sniffed loudly before falling silent.

“I’ll try to talk to Leon the best I can. I can’t make promises, but I can try. If you don’t know what’s going on, you need to talk to Cid. He’s probably done going through all that data by now, since he missed lunch and dinner, and he’s the best intel we’ve got. He can tell you what’s going on. Just go down the hall, back to where we first came in, and keep going straight. It’s on the left, okay?”

“But—“

“Just go talk to Cid. I’ll handle Leon.”

It took a stern look to get Aerith moving, the woman dabbing at her eyes and blotchy face with the back of her hand as she left to find the computer room that Cid was in. She had half a mind to try to find Leon, but… She would leave that part to Irvine.

Finding the computer room was easy enough. Going inside, however, was a totally different story. She felt like she shouldn’t be going there, through that door so aptly labeled _East Campus Lab_. She should be confronting Leon, dragging Cloud out of here, going back home with Zack and—

But Zack and the others were gone. And soon, Cloud would be too.

The door opened, causing a surprised squeak to leave her lips as she jumped back. It took her a moment to realize that it was another woman, whom she had only briefly seen over dinner. Her blonde hair was slicked back, pulled into a small knot at the back of her head, and yet two strands had fallen loose, hovering along her scalp like some kind of antenna. She was shorter than Aerith, but the intensity and distaste within sharp eyes made the brunette dwarf.

"Um-"

The door was shut and the woman walked off with her arms across her chest, acting as if nothing had happened at all.

Aerith had half a mind to follow her, to find out where she was going and if she would lead her to where Cloud was being kept. But the door opened again before she could make up her mind, and she was taken aback once more by the noxious fumes of… cigarettes?

“Who th’ hell’re you?”

She blinked in shock at the man, who had spared the retreating woman a sour glance before focusing on Aerith. He was old—Older than any of the others Aerith had seen so far –and there was a cigarette smashed between his teeth to finish off the look of bagged, tired eyes and a scratchy beard that hadn’t seen a razor in a couple days. Was this Cid?

“A-Aerith…”

Abruptly, he nodded in understanding, stepping aside and holding the door for her. “Irvine just paged me ‘bout you. I’m Cid. Come in.”

Paged him?

A small nod and she hesitated for the briefest of moments, eyes flickering down the hall. The woman was gone now, but she couldn’t have gotten far. If she ran, there was still a chance that she could catch up and—

“Ignore her. ‘s her time o’ month, so don't take it personal.”

That wasn't what she was worried about.

“…Okay.”

Nothing left to stall for, she ducked her head in thanks and entered the lab.

 _Lab_ was an appropriate word for the hectic mess that laid beyond. Computers were laid out on every kind of surface, and if it wasn’t a screen, it was a tower or some other kind of flashing device. Cords criss-crossed the floor and were duct taped to walls, tables, and even the ceiling. Every screen was turned on, either showing some kind of default screen saver or loading screen. The room itself was hot and stuffy, and it stank of so much cigarette smoke that it was a small miracle she could even see through it all.

Cid stepped forward first, giving her instruction to watch her step as he pulled out a dark leather office chair, plopping into it and smashing his cigarette into an ash tray that sat on top of a nearby tower. He gestured to a simple plastic chair beside him for her to sit, and she couldn’t help but feel as if he wasn’t really _used_ to entertaining.

“What d’ya wanna know?” was the question as soon as she had seated, not even giving her time to fidget or dab her eyes again. He seemed to be completely ignorant of the mess she was, not even looking at her as he pushed her a roll of paper towels for her tears and began tapping away on a keyboard before him. She attempted to peek at the screen, but the massive amount of text and symbols meant very little to her.

“U-um…”

“Larxene just told me your buddy’s bein’ put down.”

“He isn’t infected—!”

“I never said he was.”

He stopped typing, callused hands grabbing up a pack of cigarettes and silently offering her one.

“I… I don’t smoke…”

A nod and he put the stick between his lips, lighting it with a match before he turned his chair back to her. “If we can’t prove he’s infected, he’ll be fine.”

That was only a _small_ comfort.

“But Irvine said that Leon—“

“Don’t worry about it. Leon’s harsh, but he ain’t _that_ harsh. He knows we need more hands to help ‘round here. Irvine already told you ‘bout the garden, right?”

She blew her nose into a stiff paper towel, dabbed at her eyes, and nodded. While she didn’t remember much, she knew that Irvine had shown her their underground greenhouse and she had immediately sunk her hands into the dark dirt to help. She couldn’t remember what they had talked about, only that she had overheard Leon and Irvine arguing about shooting Cloud… She really had to stop crying.

“I’m not good with the waterworks, missy. No one around here is. The world’s shit—Ya gotta realize that.”

“But I don’t—! I don’t even know know what’s going on!”

He blinked, smoke lazily trailing out of his lips as he processed that confession. He gave her a _look_ , blue eyes a little squinty under thick eyebrows as his cigarette flicked to the other side of his mouth.

“I’ve never left Midgar… I don’t know what’s going on out here,” she spoke softly, folding in on herself in shame. 

Realization dawned upon the man, and Aerith thought a smile might fit the mood, but Cid abruptly frowned, leaning back in his chair and causing it to squeak in resistance.

“How much _do_ you know?”

“That it’s a virus, and it kills the host as it takes over… Or something like that.”

“Y’ain’t far off,” he sighed, arms crossing over his chest.

Aerith settled as much as she could, reading from his expression (and the fact that he took the cigarette out for once) that this was going to be a long story.

“The virus started off in animals. Dogs, actually. Started in coyotes—Probably from their diet, especially around cities. Some sorta mutation in their brain caused by pollution or somethin'. We dunno. If we knew the cause we'd have a cure. But, coyotes ain’t pack animals, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. An infected here or there, but once they stopped eatin’ their meals fully, it spread. They’d leave half a carcass of a deer, and then what? Then a pack o’ wolves would come across it, chase off the coyote, and have a nice dinner. Now wolves ain’t vultures or anything, but in the cities? It’s competition. Maybe they’d even eat the coyote too. Then they’d get infected. Now, wolves _are_ pack animals. They’d spread the disease through their entire pack, and when dinner time came around, they’d infect that too. Then the birds would come pick the bones, and they’d get infected. You see where I’m goin’ with this?”

A nod, her hands clutched tight in the fabric of her skirt.

“It spread fast. And once scientists found out about it? It was too late t’ stop it by then. Some asshat got bit by a wolf when he was huntin’. The entire pack was infected. He took out the alpha and his mate for trophies, y’know, but the pack caught up to him. Tore an arm off, severe bites everywhere else. His buddies that were out with him found him and took him to a hospital. They treated him, but he was showin’—How’d they put it? –symptoms of _rabies._ So they gave him a rabies shot, but he didn’t get any better. Know what happened forty-eight hours after that?

“He died. They moved him to the morgue, all that good stuff, but in the middle of the damn autopsy, he woke up. They had a hand in his chest and everything. He attacked the doctors—Poor bastards. Slaughtered ‘em, started chompin’ on one of ‘em when a nurse came in after the noise. He got her too. He made it out of the morgue before someone drove a scalpel right into his skull. But all those doctors? They reanimated within a couple hours. The whole thing repeated itself.

“That was in Junon. Big town, right on the coast. As soon as it left the walls of the hospital, people panicked big time. Because while _that_ was goin’ on in Junon, it started in the mountains. The wolves had passed it to the deer, who passed it to the birds, who attacked some poor farmer in a little hick town called Nibelheim.”

Aerith had frozen, fingers white-knuckled at the mention of Cloud’s hometown.

Cid kept going.

“I dunno what happened in Nibelheim, ‘cept that it happened at the worst time it could. It was a tiny town, obviously, but that was the night of their homecoming game, according to rumor. The whole damn town was in that little stadium when the farmer ran out on the field, and everyone thought it was just a real happy fan, y’know? He bit clear through those football uniforms. The whole town went nuts. They tried shootin’ him once everyone had been evacuated—Y’know how rednecks are. They always got guns. They shot him, sure, right in the fuckin’ head. Blew it clear off. The players and anyone else who’d gotten bit—I guess the guy really got ‘round –were taken to the hospital. The same damn thing that happened in Junon happened in Nibelheim.

“That’s about the time that Midgar started actin’. They took in a few infected to their science labs to do research, but you can imagine how well that went. The damn plague was spreading fast, and within a month, Midgar had set itself up as a quarantine zone. They flattened the outskirts and built those massive walls, keepin’ everyone inside and unaware. Towns like Nibelhiem were just plain abandoned, but big cities like Junon? Shit, we bombed the hell outta that poor place.

“See, I worked in the army a few years back. Air Force, but I never got off the ground. I worked in repairs, strictly. I was told I'd fly one day, but that's another story. I built some o’ those planes with my own hands. But seein’ them take off to go bomb Junon… It was weird. Seemed like we were goin’ to war, but we didn’t know what the hell we were doin’. There were people, mostly the lower-ranks, like me and the pilots, that didn’t like it. We had orders to flatten a whole city, but y’know the reason they gave us? That they were hiding WMDs. For Junon, yeah, we could believe that. They had that big ass canon that they claimed was just a memorial, but the damn thing was functional! So we bombed that, tryin’ t’ focus _away_ from the civilian zones.

“Hell, even if they _had_ told us the real reason, I don’t think we woulda believed it.”

His cigarette was crushed into the tray again, grabbing another. He didn’t seem to be getting worked up over his story, but Aerith noticed the tremble in his fingers when he struck the match.

“I kept workin’. I got moved to a warehouse, away from the pilots and the big up-tops. They just told me to keep buildin’, keep fixin’. I didn’t need to know why. But, see, I had a buddy that was a soldier. We’d go out for drinks every weekend. He started cancellin’ on me, givin’ me shit excuses, and I thought it kinda weird of him, so I went to check in on him.

"Turned out, the whole damn platoon had been moved. The barracks got turned into some kinda giant med center, and that… Well, that’s where I found out what was goin’ on. I walked in, saw all these bloody men havin’ seizures or screamin’ ‘bout not bein’ able to carry on, seein’ nurses carryin’ around ripped-up uniforms… I went to go ask one o’ the guys that looked like he was in charge, right? He had a big office, so I opened the door, didn’t even fuckin’ knock 'cause I was so shook up, and the first thing I see is him holdin’ a shotgun. I didn’t even ask what he was doin’. Just stood there like a fuckin’ idiot while he blew some screaming guy’s head clear off his shoulders.

“I dunno what I did after that, but I know I left. I called my buddy, started yellin’ at him, cussin’ up a storm. He told me he didn’t know what was going on either. He had been reassigned to the communications branch ‘cause of a disability that they finally decided was enough reason to pull him out. The guy had lost his arm years before he joined the ranks—Some kinda minin’ accident, I think. He didn’t like talkin’ about it. Anyway, he told me he was just passin’ on encrypted data. I asked if he even knew how to read it, he said he didn’t. He just turned it from somethin’ written and read it over a radio.

“I told him what I saw at the med center, an’ the phone went dead. Jus’ like that.

“I left the Air Force after that. I tried gettin’ answers, but nobody was talkin’. The best answer I got was from one o’ the other maintenance workers, sayin’ there was some kinda huge to-do with bioterrorism and that there was a plague spreadin’ like wildfire because of it. I didn’t desert or anythin’, but once I found out my planes were bein’ used to level cities just because there _mighta_ been an infection in there? Hell no. Told my supervisor he could kiss my ass and walked out. Guess that’s considered desertion though, huh? They never came after me, though. They had bigger problems.

“Anyway, that was ‘bout a year into the infection. People were still panickin’, still in denial, even if they saw their neighbor eatin’ their own kid. Outside of the army base, I was told there were only five quarantine zones that were fully functional. Some place up north called The Crater, a place in the plains called Winhill, li'l place overseas called Wutai, big ol’ Deling City, and, o’ course, Midgar. I went to Winhill, since that was the closest I was to and, damn.

“See, the infected—ain’t nobody that calls ‘em zombies. Makes ‘em sound fake. –they travel in packs. Durin’ the day, they’re in li’l groups of twenty, maybe thirty. At night, they combine those groups into fifty, sixty, maybe a hundred. Sometimes, you’ll find one or two by ‘emselves, but that’s more common in rural areas or out in the wild. Animals that’re infected don’t act any different, but the humans… Shit. They don’t talk, first o’ all. They shuffle ‘round like drunks, but they can move damn fast if their legs ain’t too decomposed. All they wanna do is eat, and they’re damn carnivores. Even infected deer’ll turn into carnivores. ‘s fuckin’ creepy.

“But, see, the infected ain’t dead. The virus won’t just reanimate someone. It’ll take a livin’ host, set itself up nice an’ cozy, an’ kill ya from the inside out. It shuts down everything, ‘cept the basics. The medial parts o’ your brain. It’ll keep ya alive, but drive ya to do what your instincts tell ya. That means it’ll make you hungry, tired, thirsty—But infected ain’t got a heartbeat. It’s fuckin’ impossible. They’re alive til you can damage that li’l part o’ their brain that’s still active. Not their heart, not their organs—Shit, they don’t even _digest_ what they eat. It just sits there and—Ah, sorry. Ya look a bit nauseous.”

 _A_ _bit_ might have been an understatement. Her hand was still clenched to her skirt, but the other was busy covering her mouth.

“But yeah, I lived in Winhill a bit. It was nice. A bit rural, but not so rural that we’d get infected animals wanderin’ in. Midgar made some kinda retina scan that could tell who or what was infected, and Winhill used those too. They also had these sniffer dogs that could pick up the infection even if the scan couldn't do it. It was pretty secure. They grew their own crops, raised their own animals. _Very_ self-sufficient. Wasn’t uncommon to have steak once a week with how good the cattle were.

"Only problem Winhill had was in the _hill_ part. They were in the mountains—Same mountains Nibelhiem was in. Nestled in a nice valley, but you know what flows down into valleys? Water. Infected water. That was the first time we found out it could spread like that. An infected had probably stumbled and died into the river higher up, and that had trickled into Winhill. People were in a damn panic as soon as people started showin’ symptoms. But, it's basic knowledge that it can take up to 72 hours for a healthy human t’ be completely turned. But in Winhill? It took days. Long, horrible days. You’d hear screamin’ everywhere. Some people just offed themselves while others just said that it couldn’t be _that_ infection and that it was just a weaker strand. Nah, the water just diluted it a bit. But once the first few started turnin’? Damn. Winhill was wiped out within a month. Some people fled, some people killed themselves after they had to off their own infected family.

“It was just after I left Winhill—Like hell I was stickin’ around –and got to Midgar that I heard from my old drinkin’ buddy. The guy from the Air Force. His name's Barret. Was, sorry. He was in Midgar too—He lived in Sector Seven, so I moved in with him. He was raisin’ this li’l girl that lost her parents to the infection, but damn if she wasn’t lively. He loved that little girl like his own, and I was able t’ get a job workin’ in a scrap shop with him in Wall Market that converted shitty trash into weapons. Midgar was a caravan town—Their rations were thin, ‘cause they didn’t have the space or talent to grow crops an’ big animals like sheep or cows like Winhill did. But some of the citizens were self-sustaining. The lady that lived in the apartment next to ours had this big ol’ lizard tank she grew potatoes and carrots in like a little greenhouse. It was pretty fuckin’ cool. We had a tomato plant in our window and we got little beansprouts too.

"But my buddy, he still heard from the guys in communications every so often. No one was very loyal to the army even back then, as soon as they started treatin' us like robots that only needed to get from Point A to shoot Point B. We heard that they were planning to flatten any- and everything around Midgar, includin’ a nearby college town where a few students had been survivin’. O’ course, we were pissed, but there wasn’t anything we could do ‘bout it.

“Then we heard that they were gonna knock down the Plate. No one told us—We had met Laguna and he was big on computers an’ shit. The guy didn’t seem that techy, but when he wasn’t hackin’ shit, he was cleanin’ his gun and waitin’ for the infected to finally break down our doors before starvation got to us. See, that… That’s where it got shitty. Laguna was gonna head here, where Leon was, and he wanted us t’ come with him. Marlene, bless her soul, wanted to stay. She wanted to stay with her daddy—That’s what she called Barret –and the little ol’ lady next door. Fuck, we fought a lot then. But we left ‘bout six months before the Plate fell. I kept tryin’ t’ get Barret to leave, but he was damn stubborn.

“The infected… They said they got into Midgar. The science facility was testin’ on ‘em big time, and this data Laguna got us proves that. They even mutated it, made it stronger. But now that we got the science bullshit, we might be able to forward this to the guys at The Crater, Deling, or Wutai and get ‘em to see if they can find out a cure. The panic’s stopped and people’re fightin’ to push the infection back, but we can’t do a damn thing without a cure, y’know? It’s kinda shitty, but that’s how it is.

“See, we got people like Leon and the others to go out and do the dirty work. They kill whatever infected they see, they scavenge what they can, and they keep this place damn safe. People like me? Hell, I just sit in here all day typin’ til I can’t feel my fingers anymore. We managed to set up a network between here and Wutai wirelessly, revamping some of the old connections. Wutai managed to broadcast it worldwide, the smart bastards. Broadcast radios have been put up too—“ A thumb jerked at a large tower at the back of the room with speakers and antennas sticking out of it. “—an’ the biggest weapon we got right now is knowledge. I learned a thing or two when I lived with Barret and heard Laguna prattle on, so I can at least manage this much. We got forums up and running that anyone with an internet connection can connect to. The big companies are gone by now, sure, but a couple guys with a tech degree can set one up just as effectively. Shit, some guy in Deling rebooted the search engine system. Satellite overrides and LAN connections are all over—Damn if I understand it all completely. All I know is that I gotta keep the solar panels and the broadcast points up and running so we can keep up this connection.

“All that info Laguna got us? It’s all uploading to the survivor forums right now. People share anything they got and try to make a cure. If a cure fails, they tell us that too. Other forums are all about how to fortify, how to survive if you’re not in a quarantine. Some are for the people inside of those quarantines, tellin’ us what’s goin’ on. The forum blew up this mornin’ ‘bout the Plate fallin’ in Midgar, and by now, I guess people are leavin’ the city in droves. That’s what they want, o’ course. They can release the infected into the city once most of ‘em leave and observe how they act. All that science-y observation bullshit. It’s disgusting, but that’s what they’re probably plannin’. Either that or let out the infected after the living, see how good they are at tracking. Who knows, it might be helpful, no matter how backwards and disgustin' it is. Maybe we can track hordes now.

“You’ve heard o’ hordes, right? Of course not. That’s when there’s hundreds, maybe thousands of those infected fuckers, just amblin’ along. You normally see it on freeways, when there’s corpses in cars, infected in cars, or the living in cars. They go through that like it’s a fuckin’ buffet. But the weird thing is, even off interstates or expressways, you’ll still see ‘em; giant hordes wandering around. And they’ll be headin’ straight for a quarantine zone. It happens a lot in the north, near Crater, but the damn things freeze up in the winter and can’t move. Those in Crater send out their own armies durin’ the harsher times of the winter t’ go pick ‘em off. The Crater’s probably one o’ the safest places out there, if only for that reason. Midgar got overwhelmed years ago, but they just packed up all the infected and shipped ‘em down to the science labs they got underground.

“I dunno if they’re doin’ science that’ll be good for us or not. They seem more interested in how the virus works and how it can be manipulated now. According to their research, the human and animal strands both split about two years ago, so at least we don’t gotta worry about infected meat anymore. It’s still a risk, but we just serve that part to someone in the group we don’t like.”

That was the first time he smiled, the cigarette being squashed again. His chair squeaked as he straightened up, fingers briefly tapping at the keyboard before him as Aerith took a moment to absorb everything. She felt a little sick and lightheaded, but she wasn’t sure if that was because of the information and the story or because of the smoke and heat.

He turned back to her, giving a small shrug as he stood, walking with a hunched back to dump the ashtray out into the garbage bin by the door that had a bloody fire ax attached to a hook on the back of it. He turned around then, still smiling with cigarette-yellowed teeth.

“We just gotta keep fightin’ in whatever way we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I left off last chapter with a cliff hanger, and this didn't really solve that, but I had a little oopsie-daisy with my computer and lost the entirety of the document. That being said, from here on out is going to be fresh, for lack of a better word. This means, of course, longer delays between chapters and a slight shift in my writing style. I am in college now, full-time, but I will try to write when I can. Please keep up with the comments though-- Nothing motivates me better than knowing people actually enjoy this.
> 
> tl;dr This will be updating a little slow and perhaps with a different style of writing.
> 
> Also! I recently made a Twitter and I have no idea what I'm doing so hey I wanna make friends so hmu @apljooce (shut up it's creative)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short by a few hundred words, but cutting it anywhere else would have been a bit awkward.
> 
> Finally, the cliff hanger is solved!

The first thing Cloud Strife saw when he opened his eyes was gray.

Gray skies, maybe. Maybe the gray of the underside of the Plate. Rain, maybe? Gray wasn’t good. Gray was just… gray. Gray matter. Gray matter and bits of skull flushing down the drain in a complimentary hotel shower while his brother cried in the other room—

“So you’re up.”

Gray eyes with a scar between them; a reminder that even rainy days will break.

“Put the gun down. His eyes aren't fogged.”

“Yeah, and that doesn't prove anything.”

“He just got up. He’s not infected, Seifer.”

Wait, what?

The details were fuzzy, but the longer the bickering went on (though it was rather one-sided), the more he understood.

He understood that he was sitting against a wall, the tight feel of duct tape holding his wrists uncomfortably behind his back and his ankles bound in front of him. He also came to the awkward realization that he had been stripped naked, save for his boxers, but he didn’t want to spend so much time looking at the bruises and scrapes on his knees and feet that had collected in such a short amount of time. He was more occupied with the shooting pain throughout his arm and the soreness of his ribs.

The room he was in was dim, but there was a lamp nearby that lit up a table in a small room, two figures before him. It smelled like blood and something _damp_ , but he couldn’t hear a damn thing other than the brunet and the blond that were laying their weapons on the table.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, chicken wuss.”

_Chicken wuss?_

“Shut up, Seifer.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m outta here.”

The door shut and the silence was so heavy that Cloud thought he might scream.

Leon’s belts clinked together as he moved to put his crudely constructed weapon into a pristine case before he turned to the bound blond, pulling a knife out of one of his many holsters and crouching down before him. Cloud wanted to say something sharp, ask where he was, anything, but all he did was sit in silence as Leon easily cut off the tape. He then proceeded to tear it off of his skin, and through the sharp pain, there was a brief thought of _did he just wax all the hair off my ankles?_ But his wrists were next and he was hauled to his feet by his good arm, leaning against the wall as soon as Leon’s support vanished. A heap of fabric was thrown at his feet, the case being lifted off the table as Leon headed for the door.

“You’re sleeping in the fourth room on the right. It’s room 78. Get dressed and get in there.”

The door shut, and Cloud realized he was trembling.

What the _fuck_ was going on?

Shaking as if he had caught a chill, he dressed himself, flinching and hissing at how stiff he was. His arm was screaming, his ribs burned, and every joint of his body was just plain _sore_. He didn’t even remember falling unconscious, so he couldn’t be sure if he had simply been knocked out or not. Though, he didn’t know why he would have passed out if it wasn’t something inflicted upon him. But what Leon had said earlier—He wasn’t infected. Maybe that was why they had knocked him out. It was easier to strip and scan someone if they weren’t conscious enough to put up a fight, right? Knock them out and drag them to a room that had dark stains on the walls that splattered like blood. Maybe they did that with all new people that showed up. If they had done it to him, then they had probably done it to—

Aerith.

Aerith had been here with him. He remembered the tremble in her voice, the way her fingers weaved together in worry, the anxiety in her eyes. Would she really be safe here, without him? There wasn’t anyone he could trust. Sure, Irvine seemed like a nice enough guy, but Cloud had only known him for a few minutes. What if…?

He slammed the door open, standing in the middle of a tiled white hallway, alone. Both left and right seemed to stretch on forever, but he took a left, contrary to Leon’s instruction. Maybe Aerith was in the room next to him, so he threw open the next door—

A storage closet.

The next one, then—!

“I told you to go right.”

He blinked, surprised that he had opened the door that led to the kitchenette. A brief glance at the name on the window indicated that it was _West Campus Kitchen/Laundry_. He may not have remembered much about his moments before losing consciousness, but he was fairly certain that he had been in east campus before…

More importantly, Leon had opened and closed the door to a microwave, offering him a bowl. “Soup. You haven’t eaten all day.”

More importantly—

“Where’s Aerith?”

Stormy grays blinked, the soup being lowered to the counter as he moved to get a spoon from one of the drawers.

“Dunno. She was with Irvine.”

That was a small comfort. At least Irvine was doing the check—A family member. But _still_.

“What did you do to her?”

Another blink, although his face pulled down into something _unpleasant_. “Nothing. I heard she went to Cid for his spiel, but that’s it.”

“She’s… okay?”

“Of course. Irvine made that explicit. Now take the soup and eat.”

He sat uncertainly at the little plastic table, poking at the noodles within the thin broth that Leon had placed before him. The black case was on the table—the case Leon had put his weapon into –and Cloud suddenly remembered something marginally important.

“Where’s my sword?”

He didn’t get an answer right away, Leon placing a bottle of water on the table before opening his own, opting to lean against the counter rather than sit. The way he was watching Cloud made him seem like some sort of hawk, and Cloud felt very small and very vulnerable.

“Just eat.”

So he ate, Leon’s eyes boring holes into him the whole while. The soup was nothing special; it was quite the opposite. It was so bland and flavorless that Cloud didn’t even want to eat it, but it was warm and seemed to make him stop shaking (at least a little bit). He didn’t even realize how hungry he was until the bowl was empty and he found himself looking up to Leon like a dog upset with its empty dish.

“What?”

He knew better than to ask for seconds. He knew how food was out here: Scarce.

“Nothing.”

“Put your bowl in the sink and come to the room.”

Why did he feel like he was suddenly ten years younger than he was?

Leon just continued to watch him, occasionally sipping from his bottle but otherwise unmoving. He watched with cold calculation as Cloud did as he was told, only moving when the spoon hit the sink. He grabbed his case off the table, put his bottle back into the fridge, and headed for the door.

“Wait a second.”

For some reason, he was surprised when Leon actually stopped.

“What?”

He swallowed, attempting to get his dry mouth to work. He fidgeted, hands burying into the pockets of his jeans as he shifted from one sock-covered foot to the other. He didn’t ask where his shoes were, but rather—“What happened? To me, I mean. Why was I tied up like that…?”

Leon turned his face away, but the tension in his back and shoulders was terribly obvious. “You passed out. Likely from stress or shock or pain—Or all three. We thought you might have been infected, so we looked you over. We saw all the cuts on your legs, so we tied you up and waited.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about being naked in front of two guys while they _waited_ for him to either turn or simply wake up.

“It’s late now, though. Lights are out at dusk, so we need to get back to the room.”

“Lights out…?”

“We can’t afford to run the lights all night. You should know they’re more active at night. We can’t hold off a horde at three a.m. with only eight of us.”

Cloud didn’t need to ask for clarification there. The infected were like moths—They were drawn to light and noise. They would surely stumble upon their little encampment if they had a chance. He opened his mouth for another question, however, but Leon had already opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

The door clicked shut, and dizziness made the tiled floor heave upwards.

He didn’t know what was happening. He couldn’t even begin to process it. Yesterday, he had woken up to the smell of bacon and the promise of a nice trip to Wall Market. The day before that, he had been arguing with Sora over whose turn it was to clean the bathroom. The day before that, he had watched the entire series of _Pirates of the Carribbean_ with a very cuddly Sora and Riku. The day before that, he and Zack had nailed down the final shingle on the old church and had a drink at the bar to celebrate.

Five years before that, he had been lying in a parking garage while his brother writhed in pain as he got a poor experience of sleep.

He felt, in an odd, cold, distant way, that those last five years were just fabrications. He had never been anywhere safe. He had never gone into those walls with the feeling of _I can live a life here_. He had shot his brother and simply kept walking. Reno, Zack, Riku, Xion—They were all just figments. Maybe he’d lost it. Maybe he never _had_ it. Ever since he raised that shaking rifle to shoot between two warm burgundy eyes and pulled the trigger through tears in his eyes—

“Cloud.”

He startled, jumping as if he had been electrocuted. Leon had apparently come back for him, holding the door open with one arm while the remainder of his body lingered in the hall. His face was perfectly blank, as it always was, and Cloud wondered again if this was just some poor excuse of a dream. But dull nails dug into the skin on his forearm and he was very much awake, feet moving on their own accord as if he was some sort of stray with no other choice but to follow the hand that fed him.

He was learning very quickly that Leon was a man of few words, but a man of many commands. His expression was as blank as the pale walls of the hallway, but his eyes told another story. They were gray, swirling, _deep_. The scar between them was something that Cloud needed to put conscious effort into _not_ staring at, so his eyes were an obvious out. His stoic demeanor gave off the air of one that was nearly _always_ angry, and the stiff way he walked with high shoulders didn’t even begin to take away from that. Even as he opened the door to room 078, his arm held it open while his feet remained in the hall.

The room was nothing special. In fact, it was so horribly normal that it was _painful_. The brick walls were white, the floor was laid out in generic carpet, and the only mess that existed within a set of bunk beds and a dresser was a plastic bucket filled with loose ammunition for half a dozen different weapons. Next to that, however, was his Fusion Sword, polished so it gleamed and leaning against the dresser as if it belonged there.

If this really _was_ just Cloud’s version of some twisted Wonderland, something this blank and boring would make perfect sense to him.

“You’re on bottom bunk. Light’s off is in—“

The lights abruptly went out, and Cloud wondered if Leon had actually made a mistake, or if it was just his way of a joke.

“What the—“

Screeching static abruptly broke the silence, causing Cloud to flinch as a voice filtered through the mess.

_“There’s a horde. We’ll just leave the lights off all night. Anyone need a light?”_

_“Cid, what the fuck? I was in the middle of takin’ a piss!”_

_“What, is your aim that bad?”_

_“Shut up, Seifer.”_

_“Both of you shut it. Anyone need a light?”_

_“Uh, I could use one. I’m in the west lobby. I was walking Aerith to her room, but—“_

_“I’ll come get you. I’m in the hall anyway.”_

_“Thanks, Larx.”_

_“Alright, now everyone shut the fuck up. I’ll give an all-clear when the horde’s gone_.”

Another brief fuzz of static and everything went painfully silent. Cloud didn’t even dare move, eyes straining to catch even the slightest of lights. But then there was a _click_ and a circle of white on the floor, shining so he might get to bed.

There weren’t any words, but Cloud knew why. Hordes were tricky—He had only ever seen one, and that had been when they tried heading to Dollet for a pitstop. The horde had blocked off their path, and it took nearly two weeks just to get around it and the city in one piece. He hadn’t seen a horde since then, but it still made his skin crawl and his blood turn cold. Five years. Five years since he had seen the decomposed face, smelled the _shit_ , heard the moans—

The moans.

They were audible as soon as Cloud sat on the bed, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. He could only watch as Leon checked the curtains to ensure that they were closed before he climbed onto his bunk and the darkness came back. The moans were so loud that it sounded like they were right in the room with the undead, and yet Leon had laid down and already decided to try to sleep.

Cloud, on the other hand, felt like screaming, but he couldn’t get the air to his lungs to do so.

_The moans were loud, keeping all four of them wide awake. They were huddled in the basement of Tifa’s house, still working steadily through an emergency food stock and sleeping on rollaway cots. Her father had been paranoid of just about anything, except for this… It was just yesterday that Tifa was screaming at her father to get back inside as he left with only a wooden ax to defend himself._

_“They sound like zombies,” was Roxas’s attempt at breaking the silence, curled up in the cot he shared with Sora, huddled up in blankets and eyes fixed on the lantern on the floor._

_“Maybe it’s cult activity,” Tifa mused, her voice trembling despite the strength in her expression. Cloud was seated on the floor in front of her, one hand rubbing the back of her calf in an attempt to comfort her while her fingers ran through his hair._

_“It’s been going on for, like, a week,” Roxas argued, eyes unmoving, unblinking. “According to the news, it’s a virus… It’s gotta be zombies.”_

_“Zombies aren’t real!” was Sora’s shrill argument, clinging a pillow to his chest as a poor replacement for the teddy bear he had left at home._

_“You saw what happened at the game. It can’t be anything else but zom—“_

_“Stop it, Roxas.” He used his Big Brother voice that time, shooting the younger blond a_ look _._

_Roxas scowled, yet fell silent._

_The silence stretched on, the moans above them not ceasing. Tifa would flinch or gasp every time she heard something get knocked over or break, her fingers trembling fiercly on Cloud’s scalp. Sora was the first to fall asleep, using Roxas’s lap as a pillow. Roxas went next after another fifteen minutes of hearing the infected shuffle around, and Cloud’s eyelids were getting too heavy to be awake much longer._

_Maybe it was because his head was resting on his shoulder and his eyes were closed and he seemed blissfully asleep, but Tifa moved. He didn’t register it until he heard the_ click _of the rifle’s safety being switched off._

_“What are you doing?”_

_“They stopped moving as much. I’m going to reinforce the doors again. They might have left.”_

_“I’m going with you.”_

_“Don’t, Cloud.”_

_“Tifa—“_

_“You have your brothers. Stay with them.”_

_“I have you too. Just wait until morning.”_

_She smiled, and he knew then that that would be the last time he would ever see it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and she headed up the stairs before Cloud could even stumble to his feet._

_The sound of all of the moans kicking off at the sight of a meal was one that he could never forget._

_"Tifa-!"_

Static ripped through him, intercepting the ringing in his ears and his hyperventilation. His stomach churned and he dryly gagged, feeling the bland soup rising in his throat before it fell again. There was a beam of light pointed at his feet and he could feel stormy greys boring into him.

_“Horde’s passed. Lights are gonna stay off ‘til morning. Everyone good?”_

_“No, not really.”_

_“What’s wrong, Larxene?”_

_“There’s an infected outside our window that won’t stop trying to break the glass. It can’t get in, but Aerith’s having a panic attack or something. She won’t shut up.”_

_“Take her back to Irvine’s room.”_

A little rectangle of black plastic was shoved in Cloud’s hands and he blinked at it dumbly. Eyes adjusted, he could just barely see a hand make a gesture of _say something_.

“Um, I need to see her…”

_“Who the fuck’re you?”_

_“Cloud, right?”_

_“Wait, who?”_

_“We’re in room 62. Come get her.”_

_“Hey! Who the fuck is Cloud?!”_

_“Everyone shut up. There’s still stragglers out there. Cloud, Leon, go get Aerith and take her back to your room. Larxene, either keep an eye on it or kill it.”_

_“Like hell I’m just gonna watch him like some kinda fish, letting him call to all his buddies. I already got my knives out.”_

“We’ll be there soon.”

Leon’s voice sounded scratchy with sleep, and he snatched the walkie before Cloud could say anything else. He clipped it onto his belt and headed for the door, opening the door with one hand and holding the flashlight in the other. Cloud had risen to follow him, head feeling unnaturally heavy and body shaking as he followed his lead.

The moaning had stopped. He wasn’t sure if he had simply slept through it, or he was too focused on the past and current panic to notice. Either way, his mind was starting to drift into the _We’re probably safe_ direction again, and after the fall of the Plate, he couldn’t afford to let himself relax. He just needed to put a cap on his panic, to piece the jumbled mess of his head back together, and that would be that. He could be staying here for a week, maybe a year. Maybe just tonight. He didn’t know, and he needed to find those survival instincts of his again. His body needed to remember that panic solves nothing, and freaking out will only make matters worse. He needed to have a level head about this.

He needed to be as stoic as Leon.

He used to be. He used to be so stone-faced, but only because that was the only way he could be strong. He didn’t want Roxas or Sora to see his panic, to see him break down. Maybe it was the absence of his brothers that had flagged him that it was okay to be scared, ok to be panicked. His insides were like live wires, his brain a spiral of _what if_ s and debates about his own mortality. He wondered if the hell outside would ever stop, if it was too late to make amends for those he had killed or left behind. He wondered if it was ever going to go back to bacon at breakfast or kicking his locker at school because it never shut quite right.

He wondered if Leon was the same beneath that mask of perfected stone.

Room 062 wasn’t very far, and Leon didn’t even bother to knock as he did his usual open-with-one-arm gesture. Cloud just stood awkwardly in the doorway as the beam of a flashlight landed on his chest, the sound of choking sobs and catching breaths reaching his ears a millisecond before the beam was replaced by a warm chest and Aerith’s face buried into his shoulder.

And just like that, the door shut, and Leon began walking back to 078.

Cloud wasn’t sure what to do. Aerith simply hung off of him, barely able to walk as her grip bruised his good arm. She was speaking fast under her breath, but he could only catch a few words here and there. Things like _Cid_ and _Horde_ and _Infected_ were littered everywhere, but the repeating mantra was _gonna die._ So he just supported her with an arm around her waist, wondering if someone having a panic attack could even be comforted by someone who felt like their insides were trembling so bad that they would explode.

They returned the room in once piece, Cloud sitting on the lower bunk with Aerith (who immediately crawled into his lap like she was some sort of child) as Leon left the flashlight beam-up on the floor to provide lighting before he climbed back up into his bunk.

He couldn’t think of any soothing words, but he found himself stroking her back and pressing his lips into her hair, whispering that it would be okay. He knew it was a lie, ever since he started saying it when Sora woke up that first night and asked if the rioters could get into Tifa’s house. _It’s okay._

Nothing was okay. Nothing was good. Everything was falling apart at the seams so quickly that Cloud was still trying to figure out what the quilted pattern had even looked before it had been torn to burning shreds. He was still thinking about that old woman at Wall Market and the way her words had struck a nail of doubt so deep that he found it hard to breathe. He was still thinking of all the gil he had in his pocket, leftover from buying the Fusion Sword. He was still thinking of the way he looked in the mirror, watching his stubble fade at the last-minute decision to shave.

Maybe no one had knocked him out in the first place. Maybe he had just been so overwhelmed that his body had shut down. That sort of thing could happen, right? Leon had even mentioned that as a possibility.

“C-Cloud…?”

He blinked, releasing the too-tight grip he had on Aerith’s waist. A small apology slipped from his lips, but it was so soft that he couldn’t even hear it. Aerith just shook her head at him and kissed his cheek, her panic ebbing away as her head rested on Cloud’s chest so she might hear his heartbeat.

“Don’t leave, Cloud.”

The words almost seemed childish as her hands grabbed at the fabric on the back of his shirt. She was still trembling (or maybe it was him) but her breathing was evening out as she clung to him. He could have sworn he heard Leon’s snoring above them in the silence, no more moaning. The horde had passed, sleep was tugging on him like a tangible force, and he hugged the woman in his arms as his lips found the crest of her head again. She needed a shower, but so did he. He would have to start getting used to bathing in streams again. He would have to get used to the infected again.

He would have to get used to being the stone pillar Aerith needed.

“I won’t leave you, Aerith. It’ll be okay.”

He would have to get used to being outside of those fortified walls and the ever-looming Plate.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow. I only just now decided to look at the stats, and there's over 450 hits? 38 kudos? 21 comments?  
> Holy fuck, you guys are amazing. Thank you so much!  
> (Seriously, I wouldn't have come this far without you.)

“But why destroy the Plate now?”

He didn’t really expect much of an answer, and yet he remained where he was, leaning against the concrete wall with arms folded over his chest as the only other man in the room scowled at a forum webpage as his fingers impatiently pounded the _page down_ button. His eyes were unmoving from the hunched form, half out of the sheer curiosity of observation and the other half because of unease.

The room was large, however, putting as much space between the two as possible. Bookshelves, computer towers, and tables littered with medical equipment and manila folders filled the space, and the man leaning on the wall was fighting the instinct to leave the humid room completely. There was a scent that lingered, giving the illusion of copper, but the dark, semi-fresh stains on the floor and the medical equipment spoke otherwise. It made him horribly _sick_.

“Do you truly understand nothing?” was the sharp answer, nearly five minutes late of the actual question. “You are not meant to question your orders in the first place, One.”

“Forgive me, but I assume to understand. I didn't want to assume incorrect."

The man at the computer scoffed, clinking around a bit before he resumed his button-mashing. There was hardly a bear of pause before the man on the wall continued.

"If the Plate is destroyed, it will be assumed that the entire city is fallen and dead to outsiders, leaving us to do whatever _you_ want, Professor.” The title was not spoken with respect—It rarely was. The hunched man only donned a white coat and had a framed degree somewhere, and that was hardly a cause for _respect_. Mad Scientist would be a more realistic title, but that was better off spoken at the water cooler in hushed whispers.

A sick grin spread across the professor’s face as his fingers ceased in their searching, only to scribble something illegibly on a scrap of paper. “If you already knew, why did you ask?”

“The president will be killed in the process,” was his ever-calm response, eyes calculating as he attempted an actual _conversation_. “What about your funding?”

“You’re joking, right? The world cares not for _funding_ anymore.” An old office chair squeaked as the professor turned around, eyes lined in bags and vessels bulging from an all-nighter, but still having the energy to light up in amusement behind dusted frames of rounded glass. “The president was holding us back with his _ethics_. All of the city’s generators lie below ground, and without anyone _up there_ to look _down_ upon us and block us with their red tape, don’t you realize it’s freeing? All of my experiments are free to go. With as much technology and energy we can produce on our own, we can rule the world over. The infection can be _controlled_ , and—“

A metal door swung open, an absolutely livid man stomping through and aiming a TAR-21 right at a rather _smug_ professor.

“Ah, Laguna. I was wondering if you had walked out on us completely.” So calm, so cool, despite facing down the barrel of a gun that could rip him to shreds in an instant.

“Shut the fuck up!”

The man pressed against the wall lowered his hands, fingers twitching towards the hidden hilt of his own weapon. Not to protect, no. To _join in_.

“Tell me, Laguna. How was your little stunt with that med van? You were hoping to save someone?”

“I said shut up!”

The chair squeaked again as the professor moved, gesturing to the screen behind him as the gun failed to track his movements. “You got the information to where it needed to go, after all. Or was it just chance?”

The gun was trembling.

“What…? How did you—How did you know?!”

“You’re a professional computer hacker. I was prepared for your betrayal. I’ve already collected your leverage while you were out.”

Fingers pulled back from the hilt, folding once again as Laguna faltered, entire body trembling as the heavy gun was lowered, feet stepping back with weak knees. His eyes briefly flicked to the only other door in the room, where his _leverage_ was likely being held. His breathing came quick, eyes darting to the silent man on the sidelines before they made their way back to the grinning professor.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt her!”

“If you cooperated. Though, you went behind my back, didn’t you? But no matter. That data was fake.”

“No…! What did you do to her?! I didn’t want her involved!”

“But you did cooperate, in the end, only a few steps ahead. You planted the false seeds, and now the little hidey hole in Balamb is of no threat any longer. You’ve done well, and so I have no more use for you.”

The man on the sidelines had already slipped out of the room by the time he heard the professor’s little handgun fire, the thud of a body and a discarded weapon following shortly after.

* * *

 

That was the first night in a very long time that Cloud Strife shared a bed with a woman.

The last time (not including hiding in Tifa's basement) had been approximately six years ago, when he had spent the night at Tifa’s house. Her father had been out of town on official mayoral business, and teenage hormones ran rampant. They never actually ended up to the pants-off part, but they shared a bed, made out, and woke up with hickies, so didn’t that count? Either way, waking up to find himself pressed flush up against a soft chest with plump lips just _barely_ not touching his own was oddly familiar.

His arm was pinned under her shoulders, buzzing numbly while the heat under the blankets nearly stifled him. He assumed it was morning, due to the light filtering in from the small window and the muffled sound of talking out in the hallway. Aerith was still sound asleep, breathing deeply with one arm slung around Cloud’s waist (it hurt his ribs, and he wanted her to move) and the other being used as a pillow.

Perhaps it was completely cheesy and uncalled for, but he found her extremely beautiful in the morning light as numb fingers untangled from her unbraided hair. He then wondered where those thoughts had come from, because he considered Aerith a friend, at the most. She was also some kind of weird maternal figure to him, and thinking of kissing her on the lips or doing something more made him a little uncomfortable. Besides, Zack would crack his head open if he could read minds from wherever he was right about now. Heaven, or something.

Cloud wanted to stop thinking.

The door opened with such force and such abruptness that he jumped, slipping right off of the bed and causing Aerith to wake with a half-slurred question of what was going on. Cloud himself barely had time to react before there was a man crouched over him, green eyes so intense that he could barely meet them.

He distantly heard the clinking of belts as black boots paused beside his head and a low voice addressed Aerith’s question with “I don’t know.”

The man above him was… _weird_. Sure, his eyes were some unearthly shade of the same base viridian that Aerith had, but he was wearing _wing eyeliner_ and there were deep purple teardrops on his cheeks under each eye. His hair was so red that it _had_ to be fake, pulled back into a high ponytail while the front stuck up with awkward spikes. He looked like he had just peeked at his Christmas presents, almond eyes wide and his teeth half-showing through a wide smile.

“So _you’re_ Cloud.”

“Uh—“

Brilliant response, really.

“Axel, get _off_.”

The man—Axel, apparently –only leaned closer, his hot breath crossing into Cloud’s personal bubble as his nose was assaulted with cigarette smoke and… cinnamon? And he was just beginning to plan a way to wiggle out from the scrutiny when a thin hand grabbed his chin and he could suddenly _taste_ the smoke and cinnamon on his lips—

He responded in sleepy alarm, shoving the man away by hands planted firmly on his collarbones as he scrambled into a seated position, his back pressed to the wall beside the bed. “What the _hell_?!”

“Just a greeting,” Axel replied smugly, seemingly unaware of the massive holes Leon’s eyes were burning into him. Instead, he simply smiled at the scarred male in question, standing up and planting his hands firmly on his hips with an air of authority, chest puffing up. “I approve.”

“Just get the hell out.”

“Yes, sir.” It was sarcasm, dripping with it, as the redhead blew a kiss to the startled blond on the floor and took his leave, Leon kicking the door shut as soon as he disappeared.

“Get up. We’re getting breakfast.”

Cloud blinked dumbly as Aerith, who was still half-aware of everything due to her exhaustion, slipped out of the bed and waddled out of the room, mentioning something about getting her shoes. Then he blinked dumbly at Leon, who was acting far too casual about what just happened for it to simply be brushed off as his normal blank mask. Leon was too busy digging through the drawers of the dresser to notice though, tossing Cloud a clean shirt before he stripped his own off, grabbing a plain white t-shirt from the top drawer to replace it.

Cloud swore to any god or mind-reading dead people out there that he wasn’t staring at the fact that this guy had been hiding _huge_ muscles, but he did notice the silver shine of something hanging from his neck. He didn’t get a look at it for very long, as Leon hadn’t taken his sweet time with changing, and he wondered if he was hiding the pendent on purpose.

Either way, Leon had noticed him staring, a single eyebrow arching in question. He didn’t even need to say anything for Cloud to answer.

“What was that Axel guy’s problem?”

Shoulders (well-defined shoulders, he might add) rolled lazily in response, hands doing a bit more digging before he tossed Cloud his shoes, which were apparently hiding in the sock drawer. “He’s gay, and blonds are his type.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why he just _kissed_ me.”

Another shrug, this one more irritated than annoyed. “Ask him yourself.”

And with that, a hammer came down to end their conversation completely.

The silence was awkward—Cloud didn’t think there could be anything _not_ awkward about those gray eyes going right through him while he struggled to stand, wincing at the pain in his ribs. Although, that hawk-like gaze was a blessing, sometimes.

“After breakfast, I’ll have Irvine patch you up. Properly. You can stay here as long as it takes to heal.”

 _As long as it takes to heal_.

So this wasn’t permanent.

He nodded anyway, changing his shirt when Leon turned his back so he might open the door. The shirt was a bit big on him—Though they were somewhat close in height (Leon had a couple inches on him), Cloud was still the thinner of the two. He had put on his own muscle as he grew, but his were lean and from labor alone, unlike whatever bulk Leon was hiding under that just-too-tight t-shirt, and the shirt he had been given hung off of him slightly. But he didn’t complain, mostly because it was better than his battered old shirt that had taken a wipeout from his bike, and it smelled pleasantly clean, like soap.

Stepping out into the hall, Cloud was already trying to find ways to prolong his own healing process.

He could survive out there. He just needed to get over the shock, stock up his own supplies, and fix the blown tire in his bike. He could survive out there, just like he survived before. Alone, of course. He wasn’t about to take Aerith with him and put her in the danger that had crushed Roxas and, indirectly, Sora. No, Aerith would need to stay here. Irvine, while he still wasn’t sure if he could trust him, was family. Aerith was safer here, underground, protected. She could help out where she could (and he was sure she could—Zack barely did any of the work around the house) and make a spot for herself. Cloud, on the other hand…

He was better off leaving the second he knew Aerith was safe.

They discovered that Aerith had already left for breakfast, which was served in the small kitchenette that Cloud had sipped bland broth in just yesterday. Leon opened the door for him, as usual, but all small-talk completely ceased as soon as his bare foot touched the kitchen tiles.

It was a bit overwhelming, at first. He knew Aerith—She was seated at the table next to a harsh-looking blonde woman, both of them picking at a plate of nuts and berries. Bright red hair gave Axel away, sitting beside the blonde woman with a bottle of water halfway to his smirking lips. Across from him was Irvine, his hat hanging off the back of his chair, and there was an older man with short blond hair and a toothpick between his teeth, hand in a bowl of nuts as the toothpick twitched in the silence.

Leon seemed _completely_ unbothered, but Cloud hadn’t really expected anything other than that. He simply strode into the room, snatched his bottle back from out of the fridge, and leaned against the counter beside the toothpick-biter.

Cloud felt his anxiety spike, but Aerith gestured for him to sit in one of the two empty seats.

“So yer Cloud, huh?”

He jumped at the booming voice that broke the silence, sitting down awkwardly, leaving an empty chair between himself and Irvine so that he might be directly across from Aerith. A brief survey of the small crowd indicated that it was the toothpick-biter that had spoken, one hand full of nuts and the other offering itself for a shake.

“The name’s Cid. Glad y’ain’t dead.”

He smiled, shook a nervous hand, the small-talk resumed, and Cloud relaxed.

A bowl of nuts was sat before him, Cid giving him another encouraging smile as he filled the final seat at the table. Leon remained off to the side, Aerith gently asking how Cloud slept as the blonde beside her punched Axel in the ribs when he tried to snag some of her berries.

It was so oddly _comfortable_ that Cloud wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Sure, the “meal” proved that they weren’t too horribly steady of supplies, but no one was complaining. In fact, they seemed to be rather proud of themselves. He found himself introduced to everyone else properly, learning that the remaining stranger in the room was named Larxene and she was so _happy_ that there was another girl (to which she abruptly grabbed Aerith’s chest and proclaimed breasts were an incredibly rare treasure, but she loved them even if they were small) and she didn’t have to deal with _boys_ anymore.

“Hey,” Axel spoke through a mouthful of stolen berries while Larxene attempted to grab his jaw to get him to spit them out. “Did Laguna get anything good?”

And just like that, the oppressive silence was back and Cloud could feel scarred gray burning holes into the back of his head.

Cid sighed and sat up straighter beside him, popping a cap off of an acorn before grabbing a nutcracker to open it. “It’s still downloading onto the forums, but he got a lot o’ good shit. Mostly files from the science department of Shinra.”

“So they _were_ experimenting?” Larxene was completely enraptured, not even noticing when Axel’s thin fingers snuck over for another blueberry.

“Looks like it. The funny thing is that the date o’ the earliest test was _before_ Junon. Before it erupted the way it did. ‘bout a week after the first case was found.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What does that mean?” she muttered, scooting further on the edge of her chair.

“I ain’t a scientist, so we might have to have him take a look at it, but it looks like they got their hands on a sample of the virus and just started plantin’ it in citizens. Back when I was in Midgar, there were all these reports ‘bout murders or kidnappin’s… Now we know who did it.”

Aerith went white.

Irvine made eye contact with her and said the words she seemed unable to speak on her own. “Aerith’s mom… She went missing, just after they moved in with Elmyra.”

Cid nodded, pulling the toothpick from his lips. “So did a _lot_ o’ others. All around the same age—Young, but not kids. Mostly from under the plate; Poor people without anyone high-up that would notice. Tons of the files got burned or locked down by the president.”

“Shinra’s president?”

“Yep. He was fundin’ it, but half the tests they wanted didn’t go through. It’s all coded and shit—He’ll have to decode ‘em before we can use ‘em. The most recent document was last week, and there was a progress report with it. Their fundin’ got pulled right out from under ‘em.”

“What if that’s the reason they dropped the Plate?”

“That ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. The Turks were in charge o’ that, and their job’s to protect Mr. President, right?”

“Yeah, but why’d they tell everyone under the Plate about it?”

“That’s also unrelated. One o’ the Turks had family down there.”

Everyone was silent, completely focused on watching the tennis match discussion shooting between Larxene and Cid.

Larxene’s hands scratched along her scalp, no longer caring how much food Axel was stealing from her. “What the _fuck_ is going on in Midgar?”

“That’s what we’re tryin’ to find out. That an’ a cure.”

“So Midgar has a cure?”

“It should, if they’ve been experimentin’ for almost seven years now.”

“There, problem solved! We can stop looking!”

“We still gotta ask him about it.”

Irvine sighed to break the constant back-and-forth, leaning forward to fold his arms on the table, pushing his empty plate away. “What we really need is for Laguna to come back so we can have some context for this.”

“He’s not coming back.”

That voice was still as dry and level as ever, even as six pairs of eyes turned to look at the speaker. Leon was twisting the cap back onto his empty bottle, not looking up as he continued to speak. “He’s not going to be coming back. He sent Cloud and Aerith here to deliver it. He would never do that if he had the intention of coming back.”

“So you’re saying,” Irvine began slowly, pushing himself up so he might stand and face Leon properly. “You think he ran away? No- You think he’s dead?”

“I know he is. There's no way he _isn't_ dead.”

“You can’t just give up—“

The bottle slammed onto the counter with such force that it crumpled, Leon’s head lifting and giving everyone just a moment to see what lay beyond that calm exterior. His eyes were wide, nostrils flared, and Cloud felt everyone in the room stiffen at the same time.

“He’s dead! Get it through your fucking skull! He’d be back by now if he wasn’t! He left—Maybe he went back to live with mom in Midgar, but isn’t Midgar crushed by now?! He’s dead, just like we'll all be soon! Give it up already! He’s dead and he’s not coming back! Just like Selphie, just like Zell, just like Rinoa—!”

His voice cracked on the final name, body freezing and eyes going wide as if he had just noticed that his armor had shattered around him. Everyone at the table was wide-eyed in concern, sitting like a bunch of deer in headlights as the bottle toppled to the ground and the door slammed, leaving them staring at the space Leon had once stood. While Cloud had barely known Leon for even twelve hours by now, he knew that such an outburst was extremely uncharacteristic of him. The others’ reactions were a big clue too; all of them looking as if an atomic bomb had just dropped in the center of the room.

A low whistle awkwardly broke the tension as Axel stood, stretching his arms above his head. “Well, I’ll go relieve Seifer ‘fore he comes in here bitching about bein’ bored. Cid, don’t you have data to run?”

Toothpick replaced, there was a grunt as Cid also stood. “Yeah, yeah.” A dismissal wave of his hand was all he gave before he, too, left, Axel right behind him. Larxene said something about checking stock and left, and Irvine gave the remaining two a long glance before he sighed.

“I’ll go check on Leon. Aerith, give Cloud a little tour. You remember where the garden is from here, right? I’ll meet you in there after I'm done with Leon.”

She nodded, still a bit pale. She stood up as Irvine left, giving Cloud an unsure glance as he remained perfectly stationary.

“You should eat, Cloud.”

So many people had lost.

“Yeah… Okay.”

He forgot, sometimes, that he wasn’t the only one.

* * *

 

**MIDGARIAN FORUM > INTERNAL > CHICKEN LITTLE**

**ANON000482- 8:47 [log in or register]  
     heard the plates gonna fall at 10am! the whole thing! packing right now!**

**> ANON000049- 8:55  
      won’t fall. the president’s still in upper plate. wouldn’t kill himself would he?**

**> >ANON000197- 9:12  
       My sister’s a Turk, so I called her. She said only Sector 7 & 8 were scheduled to fall. No more are going to fall. Who did you hear that from? Don’t get paranoid. At the end of the day, it’s safer here than it is out there.**

Fingers moved smoothly across the screen, closing the forums and opening the text message folder. More scrolling, more tapping, and an attachment popped up from a message that read nothing but **Do Not Fail.** The file itself was nothing but random numbers and letters, but he was so adjusted to decoding the mess that it read easily. He memorized the first few lines before checking his surroundings, yet the hall was still pristinely empty. Deciding to go a little bit out of his direct commands, he opened the forum once more.

**MIDGARIAN FORUM > INTERNAL > CHICKEN LITTLE**

**> >>>ANON000318- 9:21  
       Someone just tried to announce an evacuation for Sctr 4. Got arrested. Paranoia or coverup??**

**> >>>>ANON000382- 9:26  
       What if the pres is already gone? He hasn’t made a public appearance in weeks. What if UP is already empty?**

**> >>>>>ANON000017- 9:35  
      not empty up here. pres office has been kinda quiet lately tho.**

**> >>>>>>ANON000409- 9:47  
     prob paranoia. theres no way stocks are so low theyre gonna kill us all, rite? neway its too late to get out. cross ur fingers.**

He closed the forum window once more, glancing at the clock on the phone before slipping it into his pocket. He stood up, brushed the dirt from his pants, and began.

Stealth was a skill, and it was an unusual skill for someone who towered over six feet high to be good at. And yet here he was, so deep within the Shinra building that there weren’t even guards any longer. His methods hadn’t been _all_ simply defensive ducking around corners, but a few throats had been slit. Even so, he was confident that he wasn’t about to get caught. He used to _live_ in this building—He knew the location of every security camera, every guard, and every keycard that he needed to get down to the engine room.

Before the infection, Midgar was a monument of a city. It was built on the plot of an energy facility, building outwards from underground reactors. Factories boomed, the Plate was constructed, and even _more_ factories sat atop the steel monstrosity. Shinra Headquarters was the pillar of the massive structure, reaching high into the sky with levels of business, marketing, research, all the way down to their own army. It was less of a manufacturing monopoly and more of a social tyranny, forcing the poor and working class to get by under the plate while the elite lived above, and a single rail line connecting the world of shadow and sun. Walls and pillars ran all under the Plate to help it stand, dividing the underworld into eight different sectors. Those walls held miles and miles of pipeline that disposed of contaminated water alongside cables with electricity and internet and an entire network dedicated solely to the upper plate. And the outer edge of all of those walls, looming over the outskirts, were home to eight cylindrical reactors, all holding toxic chemicals that could be harvested for energy at any time.

But after the outbreak, the outskirts had been torched, the reactors shut down, and Midgar began to be self-sustaining once again with its underground, more _conservative_  generators. And yet, the toxins were still there along the walls, full of debris and waste from sitting so idle within their enormous barrels of poorly-maintained generators. If someone were to turn them back on, to mix an already unstable mixture…

Midgar was unstable. It was a creaking mess of steel and hurried planning, and while the best architects in the world had put in their own two cents about how to make it better, but as often happens during a collaboration, things didn’t work out so smoothly as they should have. Sloppy wiring, even messier cleaning habits, and a handful of corrupted politicians and engineers and architects were more than enough to make Midgar a ticking bomb. One only needed to know where to light the fuse.

He made his way slowly down the steel stairs, almost _leisurely_. The fluorescents flickered occasionally, humming to provide the only sound. The keycard that he had been provided was slid back into his pocket as he reached the cement floors at the bottom, scowling at the humid familiarity to the underground offices of the science department. And yet, at the moment, that was only the least of his problems.

“Yo.”

The voice would have seemed perfectly casual to anyone else, but he could sense the underlying tension as a man with a shock of red hair easily flipped the safety off of a semi-automatic pistol, aiming it right at the larger’s head.

“Pretty brave, makin’ a threat like that.”

Hands did not raise to surrender, nor did he turn tail. He simply canted his head to the side, hands remaining at his sides, near the hilt of his ever-present weapon. “I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, asshole. You made an anonymous post saying the plate would fall at ten to try to get people out. Charitable, huh? You didn't even try to block your IP. Don’t think we’re stupid. Hojo went off the deep end as soon as his fundin’ got pulled. He kidnaps a few specialists—Yeah, I fuckin’ know about all those _vacations_ they took –and level the ground. Then he can do whatever the fuck he wants under there without anyone stoppin’ him. Ain’t I right?”

There was the slowest curl of lips, though he did not answer the question. “So each Turk took up a position to find where I would plant the bomb at ten o’clock. The bomb’s already been planted, _peon_. It’s on a timer to go off at ten.”

The gun did not waver at the information, and neither did its wielder. Reno was a _professional_ , thank you very much. “You’ll blow everything else by fuckin’ with the reactors—I know. But if you don’t trigger ‘em at the same time, it’s not going to work. Even if it does, you’ll die too. Yer really gonna stick your neck out for _Hojo_?”

“Believe me, I haven’t the single intention of helping that rat, nor dying for him.”

“So you say. Either way, it’s not happenin’.”

“And you intend to stop me?”

“I intend to stall you.”

Green eyes darted to the wall, to a desperately plain analog clock.

9:59:25…26…27…

He had thirty seconds.

Speed and stealth were two things that a man over six foot should not be able to possess. And yet he _did_ possess them, and his weapon was drawn in a blink and he was already halfway to the startled Turk before the trigger pulled, the gun shot, and a bullet tore clean though his leg. It should have stopped him immediately, should have knocked him down, snapping through ligament and muscle, but he kept _going_ and suddenly there was pain and blood blooming across Reno’s chest and it was _him_ that was on the floor as a madman slammed a switch to the _on_ position. But another gunshot ripped across his wrist, knocking his hand out of the way as Reno struggled to his feet, eyes almost _crazed_ as he slammed the barrel of his gun into the man’s back and pulled the trigger within the same second that the switch was pushed completely to its resting spot, engines roaring to life in the walls.

9:59:58…

Desperate, the gun shot again and dead weight was shoved aside, panicked, bloody hands attempting to pull the switch back.

59…

His fingers slipped—He couldn’t get a _grip!_

10:00:00

The world dissolved into tremors, smoke, and the distant sound of screaming.

* * *

 

“Holy shit!”

Axel nearly fell off the ladder at the abrupt scream, clambering up the rest of the way with irritation making his veins twitch. His mouth opened to demand what _exactly_ was so fucking surprising before a pair of binoculars were shoved in his hands, Seifer too busy looking out of his scope to hand them over civilly.

“Look!”

He sighed, settling to sit down beside the place that Seifer had simply laid on his stomach. He crossed his legs, using his bare eyes to scan the area. “Is it a horde?”

“Just look!”

Giving an unamused roll of his eyes, Axel raised the binoculars to his eyes and searched for whatever it was that Seifer was so shocked about. But any sort of sarcastic retort died in his throat, lips curling as he fought the urge to _laugh_.

He was staring at a plume of smoke, right where Midgar used to be.

“You think he got out?” was what he chose to say instead, unable to take his eyes off of the massive destruction on the horizon.

“Who? Laguna or the other asshole?”

“Laguna. I’m _really_ hoping Sephiroth didn’t make it out.”

There was a snort of amusement, both of them falling silent for a moment as the smoke continued to expand towards the sky. Axel sighed, lowering the binoculars and rubbing the bridge of his nose as he spoke.

“Honestly, though, I’d be surprised if he walked out of that with a single hair out of place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I'm gonna be putting this on a hiatus for a while. I'm planning on working on this for NaNoWriMo again this year, so I'll be spending my time on other fics or tweaking future plot points for this one.  
> Thank you so much for sticking with me this far, and I'll see you in November!
> 
> Also, were you really expecting a FF-related fanfiction from me that didn't have Sephiroth in it?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just hit 11k so far this NaNo, so here's the first 5k for you guys! I'll be updating with ~5k chapters for every 10k I write, just so I won't be scrambling around for chapter material.  
> Also, I made a couple presents for you! I made a [playlist](http://8tracks.com/degradedpsychotic/volatile-2) and I made a couple [book](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AESHOZ6WZgY/VFqQFtNqY8I/AAAAAAAABQM/_b88eJqgEcU/w446-h577-no/volatile%2Bdraft%2B1%2Bcopy.jpg) [covers](https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-pnIQTGf19kQ/VFqQGlWnfAI/AAAAAAAABQA/dFkGbBXjBcY/w446-h577-no/volatile%2Bdraft%2B2%2Bcopy.png)!

It was chaos.

Cloud couldn’t even hear his own voice over the boisterous cheering as maroon and white uniforms rushed to tackle the high school sophomore standing dumbfounded in the end zone as the scoreboard flashed a neon twenty-seven under NIBLEHEIM HIGH, constrasting to the twenty-one under AWAY. The crowd, which consisted of nearly every citizen in the small town, was making the cheaply crafted bleachers shake with their shouting and stomping and jumping. Some people were even vaulting over the poor attempt of a fence to join the students on the field, and Cloud probably would have grabbed Tifa by the shoulders and kissed her maroon-and-gold painted face if Sora wasn’t on his shoulders cheering until his voice went raw. Even Roxas, who swore he didn’t even _like_ football, was applauding and throwing his voice with the others, casting aside his thirteen year old “angst is cool” motif in favor of celebration.

The Nibelheim Wolves had won their first homecoming game. _Ever_.

There were so many people on the field now that it was impossible to tell who was on the team and who was just decked out in school spirit gear. The crowd had all but cleared the stands in favor of the field, and those that remained in the creaking steel structure were beginning to calm, clapping absently as they talked amongst themselves. Sora was placed back on the ground as Tifa leaned up to yell in Cloud’s ear in order to be heard, announcing that if they wanted to get back before the crowd, they had to start fighting their way out now. But there was something about the way she said it that immediately made him agree, grabbing Sora’s hand as he began to follow flowing black hair, Roxas announcing that he was going to go hang out with his friends before going home. They had nearly gotten down the stairs of the bleachers, however, before they stopped.

One scream ripped over the calming crowd, and there was something about the rawness of it that announced that it was _not_ a cheer of celebration.

 _Something_ was happening on the field, but they couldn’t see what it was. People that had been mobbing the team were suddenly scrambling back, and Cloud could just barely see someone hauling up one of the players, and there was a shade of red much brighter than anything close to maroon and then there was a man attacking someone—

“We need to go.”

It felt disembodied, as if it wasn’t really his voice, but he found his hand tightening around Sora’s and his other grabbing Tifa around the bangle-clad wrist as he pushed through the stunned crowd, ignoring those shrill screams as people simultaneously ran off the field and onto it.

Sora was saying something; probably asking what was going on, why Cloud was so pale. Tifa looked the same, however, and it was clear that she had sneaked her own peek at whatever was going on down there.

Their pushing soon turned into pulling, the crowd rushing out with them as sirens blared in the distance from the only local hospital. An ambulance pulled in when they finally got to Tifa’s little car, Cloud pushing Sora into the backseat before snapping the passenger seat back into place so he might be able to sit. Tifa slid into the driver’s seat, gave Sora a thin-lipped smile in the mirror, and merged into the traffic that was streaming away out of the dirt-packed parking lot, needing to go slow in order to avoid running pedestrians and urgent EMTs.

Cloud just hoped Roxas and his friends had enough sense to get home before the celebration turned into an all-out brawl.

The town was a stark contrast to the scene at the field. It was nearly silent, the crowd from the field either hurrying inside or chatting softly on their doorsteps. Tifa pulled up to the driveway of Cloud and Sora’s house, leaning over to give Cloud a quick kiss on the jaw before leaning back into her own seat.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” she announced, her color and demeanor back now that she was away from the blood stained maroon. “Dad’s gonna be out of town,” she added softly as Cloud began to unbuckle, and for the second time, he had the inkling feeling of what exactly that _meant_.

“Uh,” was his very eloquent reply, hands still shaking with leftover adrenaline.

He and Sora got in to their father kicked back and watching some professional football game, their mother perched in her usual rocker with a book on her knee. Both of them looked up, their question about the game dying off in favor of their mother’s “Where’s Roxas?”

Sora skipped right over and plopped next to his father, eyes searching for wherever their cat was hiding now. “He said he was gonna hang out with his friends,” he pouted, clearly upset at both the absence of a fluffy ginger tail and his brother.

“Is he spending the night there?” It was a little amusing how she didn’t even have to ask for a clarification of _which_ friends. Roxas only had three, and they all lived in the same area of town. The same  _block_ , even. Not that Nibelheim was big enough for that to be so rare.

Cloud just shrugged while Sora declared “I dunno!” before he announced he was going to bed (it was only nine, and he wasn’t going to _sleep_ ) and took the stairs slowly to get into his room to contemplate tomorrow’s Mr. Lockhart-free day.

It wasn’t until Monday that school was cancelled halfway through the day due to riots.

It seemed to happen out of nowhere. The Sunday news had announced that the football members attacked by some guy with a serious rabies infection had been put into critical care, and the man accused of doing so could not be stopped until the police killed him. It was gruesome news, especially for a town that had the only criminal activity of high schoolers smoking pot behind the gym. Police had been pulled in from the neighboring towns to help determine what exactly had happened at the game, and a detective had come knocking on the Strife family’s door at the ripe hour of six that Sunday. Cloud had answered their questions blearily over a cup of coffee, bundled up in a robe over his pajamas and thankful that at least there weren’t any cameras. He had called Tifa later on to find that she had been questioned too.

But now they were crammed in a busload of students, Tifa resting on Cloud’s thigh to make room for Roxas and Sora, who were crammed into the aisle. He couldn’t even complain about his leg going numb, too busy staring out the dirty old windows at the scene of the city.

There were police blockades almost everywhere, meaning that the bus had to wind around through back roads and up on curbs. It was not a comfortable ride in the slightest, but the occasional passing of an ambulance or watching someone fend off a dazed-looking attacker (who strangely looked like a high school student that should have been in the ICU) was enough to keep the older kids quiet while the elementary students played games of Who Can Stand Up The Longest During The Bus Ride in the aisle.

Tifa’s house was one of the first stops, the mayor’s house naturally being close to the school and other public buildings. But rather than say goodbye and let Tifa leave on her own, she was soon ushering all three Strifes off with her, hurrying to unlock her door and step inside before slamming it shut and locking the deadbolt as the bus rumbled on.

“Dad?” she called out, heading up the stairs to search for her father in his study. Cloud simply made himself at home, urging his younger brothers to go relax in the living room while he ventured into the kitchen for something to eat.

He came back into the living room with a plate of Pizza Rolls to see Mayor Lockhart himself standing behind the couch that Roxas and Sora were on, Tifa leaning against the armrest as the news filtered through a state of the art HD TV that took up most of the living room's wall.

It was a female reporter, the face of one that they had all grown up listening to and watching. She was old, but not gray or wrinkled badly. She stood just outside of the elementary school, where caution tape had been rolled out and police were beginning to file in, guns drawn. The visual was jarring enough, but the words were what rooted them all to the spot.

“One of the suspects has been identified within this building, having attacked several staff members while children were being evacuated. These individuals, who do not wish to be identified publicly, have all been taken to Nibelheim Care for inspection of their injuries. Police are now engaging with the suspect to—“

Several gunshots rang in the background, startling the reporter as she turned to look at the stoic building behind her. The camera remained on her, however, and she soon turned to face it again.

“Shots have just rang out within the building, and the med teams are on standby. It's unknown if they were friend or foe. We’ll be back when more has developed—Jared, back to you.”

The screen switched back to the studio, Cloud setting the plate of Pizza Rolls on the coffee table before squeezing in between his brothers, who were immediately distracted by the food. Cloud and Tifa were still transfixed by the television, even as the mayor began muttering about making phone calls as he wandered back upstairs.

“Thank you Lisa. As you can see, this is a very serious event, especially considering that children have been put in the line of fire. We do have news that the building was successfully evacuated before any of the students could be hurt, and the school district is now in the process of taking these children, as well as their older siblings in the high school, back to their homes. This all seems to be random, as the suspects have not labeled their motive. It seemed to have started Friday night at the Nibelheim Wolves homecoming game, where excited crowds mobbed the field and a man, identified as corn farmer Richard Tamson, began attacking the players. Tamson was shot dead at the scene by police when he attempted to attack them as well, and it was reported that an autopsy showed he had suffered a serious rabies infection from a bite, possibly from one of our more feral Nibel wolves.

“More updates will be as warrant, so stay tuned.”

Silence lapsed between the students as the screen switched again, this time broadcasting a commercial for some political campaign for governor. Sora was busy munching on Pizza Rolls, apparently unaffected by the news, but Roxas was picking at a burnt spot on one of his with his eyes blankly focused on the television. They could hear the deep baritone of Tifa’s father upstairs, but the words were too muted to make out.

“We should stay here for a while,” was Tifa’s proclamation, and no one could think of a reason to argue against it. Cloud had even called his parents to tell them, and they had insisted that staying in Tifa’s much larger home would be safer than their little ranch, which they said they would leave if things got worse.

Things did get worse, and Mayor Lockhart left to try to console the people and never came back.

Days passed, the windows were broken, and they relocated to the basement. The news stopped coming after four days, things too dangerous for any reporting and the station’s power had been tripped by a rioter ripping up wires. They moved to the Lockhart’s basement, which was fully stocked with all kinds of end-all supplies. There were cots, cans upon cans of food, gallons of clear water, and a locker of weapons that Cloud had picked a hunting rifle from.

“Just in case,” he had said.

The first and only time he had fired it had been at Tifa, sobbing and holding her heavily bleeding shoulder as gray bruises infected up her neck and down her arm, begging for Cloud to shoot her before she became one of _them_.

He pulled the trigger, dropped the gun, and grabbed his brothers to get home, only to find the half-eaten corpses of his deceased parents in the kitchen, mauled almost beyond recognition by coyotes or maybe even the same Nibel wolves that had bitten Robert Tamson.

So Cloud grabbed the collector’s sword out of his room and the keys to his father’s motorcycle, packed three backpacks of supplies, and listened to the message blinking on the answering machine of his grandmother telling them to come to Midgar, where it was safe.

And now he was here.

Why the _hell_ was he here?

He sat silently and obediently as Irvine finished wrapping his ribs, the pain barely even registering to his numbed mind anymore. Aerith was crouched in the dirt of the humid greenhouse, earth up to her elbows as she tilled and planted and re-planted with a little garden spade, completely focused in her task. Irvine gave Cloud a smile when he finished that wasn’t returned before he decided to sit beside him, both of them watching Aerith work.

“She’s been gardening ever since was a kid. I’m glad she can help us with it. We might actually get good food from this now.”

Cloud didn’t respond, eyes moving from Aerith to his limply curled hands in his lap. Leon’s outburst earlier had brought everything into focus, everything into line. Everything seemed so real now, so unlike before. Before, when he had this happy little bubble of ignorance within the walls of Midgar. Before, when he was just a stupid hormonal kid, jumping at the chance to screw around with his girlfriend while her dad went out of town for a day. Before.

Before hell opened up and swallowed the world whole.

“You’ll have to find something here you can help us with. Leon says he’s going to make you leave as soon as you heal, but I’m sure if you can prove him that you’re useful, he’ll let you stay. He’s cold, but not that cold. You saw how much death can get to him. If he sends you out there… The guilt’ll eat him alive.”

His fingers twitched, and he knew that Irvine wasn’t about to stop talking. It was either participate in the discussion or make things awkward. And considering that Irvine had stripped him of his shirt and helped him out, the least he could do was humor him.

“Is he your leader? Leon, I mean.”

There was a heaved sigh, a hand reaching up to remove an old cowboy hat as he considered the answer, still watching Aerith as she dug around in the dry dirt. “Sort of. He was, but once Rinoa and Zell died, he… He’s changed. Cid’s moved from second-in-command to most-in-command, since he’s the one with the most experience and the most logical head on his shoulders. Leon’s a good leader, but he lets things get in the way. I’d say emotion, but he’s so detached from everything that it’s a wonder he feels sad at all. It’s his indifference that makes it hard. He doesn’t care much for anyone but those he deems important.”

“And to be important, you have to be useful.”

The hat was returned, a solemn nod accompanying the action. “You got it. I’m important because I’m a damn good shot and I’m like some kind of moderator around here when things get hairy. Seifer’s important, even though Leon hates his guts, because he’s also a good shot and he’s a good hunter for food. Aerith’s important because she can garden.”

Cloud Strife never really excelled in anything that counted as being _important_.

“You have that big ass sword. If you can learn how to swing that thing around with accuracy, Leon might let you stay.”

Except sword fighting.

“Zack… He worked at the orphanage. He was Aerith’s… fiancé, I guess. He taught me a lot about swordsmanship. We sparred a lot, so I learned from him. Him and… experience from before.”

“Good!” Irvine chirped, clapping a hand on Cloud’s good shoulder. “Then you got a head start. You just gotta work on getting your arm all healed up, and then we can see how good you really are.”

He gave a small nod, blue eyes finding Aerith bent over the soil again, watching her wipe at her brow and smear brown dirt across her face, but she dove back in without noticing as if she was in some kind of trance.

Cloud decided then that he didn’t like seeing those bags under her eyes.

The now-familiar buzz of static stole his attention, eyes focusing on the walkie Irvine unclipped from his belt, Aerith pausing in her work to listen.

_“Cid? ‘s Axel. Get on private line. Not an emergency, but you gotta hear this.”_

There was a grainy response of _“This better be good”_ before silence lapsed over the connection, Irvine’s brows crowding down in suspicion. Aerith went back to work and Cloud went back to looking at his fingers, but Irvine stood up and clipped the radio back onto his belt.

“I’ll be right back,” he said quickly, turning and pushing the heavy doors to leave.

Cloud was just starting to get used to the silence beneath the rhythmic turning of dirt when Aerith stopped, set the spade aside, and sat beside him against the wall. She wasn’t close, either because she didn’t want to get Cloud dirty or didn’t want to upset his arm, but he felt like the mere five inches between them was a mile-wide chasm. And yet, he could still see the steadily healing scabs from road burn, the dirt under her nails, the bags under eyes, the flyaway hairs escaping from her braid, and the slight tremble under her skin as she tried to keep herself away from the line between upset and calm. She just seemed so  _fragile_. _  
_

He broke the silence first because he was afraid she might have shattered if he didn’t.

“Irvine says you’ll be able to stay here. You’ll be safe.”

He apparently said the wrong thing, because he watched as green blurred with tears.

“I can’t lose you too,” she whispered, almost as if she was scared anything louder might be the final blow to her emotional strength. “You need to talk to them. You need to stay. You’ve been through this before, and I can’t sit by when you have to go back out there again…”

“I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but it made sense. Both of his brothers were gone—One killed by his own hands and the other safe in Midgar’s upper plate. The only one he would be responsible for would be himself, and no one would be upset if anything happened to him because they wouldn’t _be_ there. It made sense to him, to grab his sword, get on his bike, and leave. He just didn’t _want_ to. He didn’t want to leave Aerith with strangers, no matter how familiar they seemed to her.

“Please.”

He swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, tasting blood on the dry, broken skin. Irvine’s words came back to him, and he knew that he just had to prove himself to Leon in order to stay. It seemed like a ridiculous way to run things, but it made sense if he thought about it long enough. Why feed someone if they weren’t holding their own? This place wasn’t based in family, but in comradery.

“I will. It’ll be okay.”

Cloud Strife wasn’t good at keeping promises.

* * *

 

Three days had passed before Cloud stopped pinching the skin of his thigh and the anxiety stopped overflowing. Aerith spent most of her time off in the garden or talking quietly with Irvine, leaving Cloud to rest in bed (rest _was_ the best medicine, next to laughter, but there was no way he was going to laugh anytime soon). Those three days passed slowly with silence, as Leon only came into the room for supplies or sleep. It wasn’t that Cloud wanted to talk to Leon that badly—He really wouldn’t know what to say if Leon _did_ start talking. That breakdown was still fresh in his mind, holding a knife over the thread he was still hanging onto.

He felt as if he was balancing oh-so-delicately on the line between sane and insanity, not knowing when the tipping point might come. He spent time staring at the bottom of Leon’s bunk, thinking about Sora and wondering if he was okay. Had he made the right decision in letting him go? He had finally gotten his belongings back, so if he ever got to see Sora again, he could give him that stupid Rubik’s Cube and his candy… But would he see him again? He would leave for Midgar when he got healthy enough to ride his bike; when Leon claimed that his stay would be over. He would get Sora, Riku, Xion, and come back for Aerith and they could try going to another quarantined city—Maybe up at the Crater, where it was rumored to be invincible from the infected.

He thought and planned and plotted while he rested, and when he slept, he dreamed of being back home with his parents and brothers and Tifa’s head on his lap while they watched Night of the Living Dead on the old movie channel and then the front door would burst down and he would watch his life and loved ones be ripped apart by infected that looked like Zack and Leon and rat-tailed Reno. Bags were constant under his eyes, and if his nightmares involved any screaming or thrashing, Leon had enough tact to not bring it up. Cloud didn’t even like seeing his own reflection anymore, not even wanting to look at the dark shade under his dulled eyes or the way his hair stuck with sleep and oil or the way his skin flaked from being dried out by five-minute-showers with icy water and the crisp dryness of being underground.

But the fourth day, when he got up to use the communal bathrooms, he noticed something familiar about his reflection.

His eyes were no longer dull, but completely blank. The bags were heavier than ever, pulling down on his bottom lids. His mouth was set in a firm line, and he didn’t even have the temptation to look at the scar on his arm and rethink everything that had happened since the outbreak had started.  Any trace of anxiety, depression, or anything at all had completely left his features blank, void of emotion. He still looked tired, it was true, but it was an apathetic kind of tired. As if someone might ask “How are you?” and he would only shrug in response. His mouth was dry and unused from rare conversation, and he wondered idly what his voice had sounded like last week compared to if he said something right now. He decided, in the end, that he didn’t want to know, and the apathetic look behind stone cold blue eyes only hardened into place.

He looked like Leon.

“Mornin’ Chicken Wuss.”

His attention was torn away from the spectre in the mirror as the door opened and closed, only to look away again as the other unzipped and took stance in front of a urinal.

“My name’s Cloud.”

“I know.”

He shifted awkwardly, his precious silence cracked and shattered by the unpleasant sound of an emptying bladder. “You’re Seifer, aren’t you?”

“So you do remember.” _Zip_. “Here I thought you forgot all about that.”

The bumping, creaking bus, the infant in his arms, Sora huddling close to him because he was cold, the bits of dried tears and blood and bits of skull and gray matter that were imprinted on his sweater-

“I don’t like to think about it,” he replied in monotone, stepping aside so Seifer might be able to wash his hands.

He didn’t, however, choosing to kick the door open with a bump of his foot, shooting a grin at Cloud over his shoulder. “Too bad.”

The door gave a soft _thump_ as it swung back into its frame, and Cloud wondered for the eighth time that morning what his life might have been like if he had never tried to take his brothers to Midgar.

His pondering was put on hold as he exited the bathroom, going down the now-familiar route to the kitchenette, where breakfast portions were being given out. It was rice this morning—White, plain, bland, and more stiff than fluffy. But he ate it, eyes on his own bowl even as Aerith sat beside him to pick at her own meal. He ignored the brief skirmish as Axel tried to sit beside him, but Irvine quickly claimed the chair to keep him away. There was mumbled conversation, Larxene spreading out a piece of paper with a shrewd drawing of a map in, of all things, crayon, Axel leaning over to look and comment on it. Leon stood in his usual spot, leaning against the counter as he spooned rice into his mouth while Seifer argued about being put on morning shift in the sniping post for the fourth day in a row.

But the quiet conversation went completely silent as Cid opened the door and slammed a blood stained fireax onto the table. Aerith flinched, shifting away from the weapon, eyes wide, whereas Cloud simply looked up with mild interest.

“We’re going out.”

Axel tapped a finger on Larxene’s map, raising a thin brow at the man that had taken sudden charge of the room. “We know. Me, Larx, and Seifer were gonna go.”

Cid only shook his head, small eyes snapping to Aerith and Cloud. “Did anyone think to spread the news?”

Silence. Cloud was getting used to that.

But Cid broke it before it could get too heavy, arms crossing over his chest as his usual cigarette was flicked to the other corner of his mouth. “Midgar’s gone. The whole Plate crashed down, the reactors blew, and it’s a fuckin’ wasteland. We gotta get in there to grab what supplies we can before every horde in the state gets there. The horde from a couple nights ago might still be in the city, but one’s better than ten. We go in, we get out. We can’t risk how many infected might have turned already.”

The Plate had fallen. The Plate that he had put Sora on as if it was some silver platter being handed off to Death himself.

Cold. That was all he felt, even as Aerith’s hands covered her mouth in shock.

“I know you mentioned you had family there, Aerith, but they’re gone. No use in sugar coatin’ it. If anyone survived, we woulda gotten a couple stragglers out this way, but we ain’t seen nobody.”

Cloud nudged his rice away. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

Axel spoke up, Larxene folding up her map as he spoke. “I can run for supplies alone. Gimme the truck and I can load it.”

“It’ll run smoother if we get more than one person. I know you’re good at supply runs, but this is _Midgar_. We’re all going.”

Leon, for the first time in four days, spoke up. “Someone has to stay here with Cloud and Aerith. I don’t trust them here alone.”

Irvine sent the scarred man a look that could kill, but he ignored it outright.

Cid took a drag of his cigarette before he answered, grabbing the axe off the table and slinging it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. “Seifer stays.”

The blond nearly choked, face turning red as his spoon was slammed to the table, chair knocked back as he shot to his feet. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?! I’m not gonna be their damn babysitter! Fuck you! Make Irvine stay!”

Cid opened his mouth to interrupt, but Leon’s steel-firm voice cut through first.

“Irvine is our best sharpshooter. If there’s a possibility of a horde, we need to rely on his eye and his aim.”

“I can fight too! I—“

“Everyone else, get your weapons. We leave in fifteen,” Cid deadpanned, giving Leon a raised eyebrow in silent question before the stoic leader nodded, eating the last of his rice before placing his bowl in the sink and exiting behind the older man.

Larxene laughed outright as soon as the door was closed, pitch high and almost manic. Axel was grinning with her, lips twitching as he fought back his own laughter. Irvine had left, however, rolling his eyes and giving Aerith a sympathetic smile as he went.

“Have fun babysitting!” Larxene cackled, standing and ruffling Seifer’s hair, which was exposed in the absence of his usual gray beanie. “Don’t give the kids sugar and make sure they don’t make a mess of the place!”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” he snapped, slapping his sister’s hand away. “Don’t even bother coming back if you’re gonna be a bitch!”

It was Axel’s turn then, slinging an arm around Seifer’s shoulders and leaning in to stage whisper in his ear. “She’s always a bitch, dude. But you want _me_ to come back, right?”

An elbow was delivered directly to Axel’s solar plexus, causing him to double over and cough, holding onto the table for support as Larxene laughed so hard she was practically crying. Seifer marched out, slamming the door theatrically behind him, and Larxene was running after him, laughing between shouts of “NANNIES AREN’T SUPPOSED TO LEAVE THE KIDS!” as Axel wheezed with pain and laughter, heaving himself out after them.

Aerith was crying into her hands.

Cloud was just staring at his bowl of overcooked rice.

“Xion… Sora, Riku… They have to be okay. If the Plate was falling, they would have evacuated at least whoever was on top, right? The elite live up there. They wouldn’t commit suicide like that, would they? They have to be okay! Cloud, please, they have to be okay! We have to go with them—We have to find out if everyone’s okay. We have to go, Cloud, please! God, this can’t—this can’t be happening! Not after—Not after everything! R-Reno said they would be safe! They lied!”

He pinched his thigh, but nothing changed.

“They can’t be dead!”

He didn’t bother telling her that it would be okay.

 


	13. Chapter 13

“We’re splitting into two groups,” was the decision, Leon busy sitting on an outcropping of the decayed dorm wall as he loaded an extra pistol, his gunblade attached to the belts on his hip along with flashlights, empty bottles, and a plastic canteen full of water.

Irvine was perched beside him, checking and re-checking the rifle that wasn’t slung across his back. Cid was the only one that seemed to be already prepared, fireax hanging off of his belt and a large makeshift spear (a steel pole with a razor-sharp kitchen knife at the end) slung over his shoulder, a set of keys in each hand as Leon continued speaking.

“Irvine and Larxene will take the truck,” he announced, giving Larxene a brief look of warning as Cid handed over the keys to her as she finished putting away her assortment of knives and the crossbow on her back. “Irvine drives.”

“Oh _come on_!”

Ignoring her, Leon shifted his glance to Axel, who was stretching his arms across his chest in an effort to calm down the anxiety and excitement of a big run. “Axel, Cid, and myself will take the van. We’ll go in through the Sector Six entrance after Larxene and Irvine set up a surveillance post. Infected aren’t likely to be the only enemy out there. There could still be ShinRa forces around, if the explosion was an inside job, or thieves trying to get what they can before escaping the city.”

Cid picked up the instructions then, Leon’s attention going back to his work. “Our goal is to be back by tomorrow morning. Load up with as much as you can—We’ll leave the truck and van nearby for loading, but I’ll be staying back to guard them. Our goals are food, medicine, and seeds, if possible. Anything else is welcome, but we got priorities this time. We clear?”

“Crystal,” Axel sighed, currently bent double to place his hands on the dusty ground. Straightening up, he cracked his back backwards before re-assembling his weapons—A crowbar tucked under his belt, a pistol in a hip holster, a rifle across his back, and a couple large hunting knives stashed in his boots and along his forearms in makeshift sheaths. His hair was pulled back high on his head, keeping back as many flyaways as possible as he headed for the van, opening the trunk hatch and climbing in. “So let’s go already!”

They loaded up quickly, Irvine taking the keys from Larxene to drive as she climbed into the bed of the truck, clearly unhappy with the situation. Cid opted to drive the van, Leon climbing into the passenger seat and placing his walkie on the dashboard so they might be able to easily communicate with the truck in front of them. The vehicles went out together, driving the hour-long ride at speeds that would have gotten them pulled over if police were even an establishment anymore. Irvine and Larxene got out of the truck just outside of the collapsed gate, both of them taking their walkies and leaving the van in silence while they left to secure a lookout.

“This places looks like shit, guys,” Axel muttered, climbing up so he might get out of the van to stand by the front side mirrors, Cid rolling down his window so they would still be able to speak. “What d’ya think made the reactors blow too?”

“The reactors are probably what took the Plate out.”

A low whistle followed Leon’s statement, and the three of them simply waited and gazed at the destruction.

If Midgar was ugly before, it was absolutely _hideous_ now. The reactors, once great pillars that were over a hundred feet high stood as reinforcement for twenty-foot walls and the Plate, had been blown out at the base, causing them to sag and lean as if they had deflated. The stench of smog and pollution was even stronger now, as if the chemicals within the defeated reactors were still floating in the air. The walls had crumbled under the monumental weight of the Plate, which still had half-fallen buildings and homes on top of it. The gate itself had seemed as if it imploded with the force, leaving an entrance that would be just barely big enough for the truck and van to fit through at the same time. But the whole thing was horribly unsteady, and even as they sat in wait for the signal that all was clear, they watched as bits of debris trickled down into the bowl-shaped ruins.

“You think it’s safe to go in there?” Axel prodded, leaning against the van’s mirror as a metal beam creaked ten feet above with the weight of a shattered office building.

“Absolutely not,” Cid muttered around a toothpick, subtly bitter that he was running too low on cigs to waste any now. But maybe he could find some in the debris… But there were bigger things that he should probably be worrying about instead. “Not only is the place still fallin’ after all this time, but we probably ain’t the only ones coming for supplies. There might be—“

Static buzzed to cut him off, Axel whooping in excitement before heading for the opening that the truck was parked beside as Irvine’s voice carried over the connection.

“It’s dangerous to climb in most places, but we found some high ground up on a roof. The place is desolate—there’s bodies that got crushed and Larxene’s trying to see if they were carrying anything useful on them, now. I got a bird’s eye of the place. Come in.”

“On our way,” Cid replied, Leon grabbing the walkie to clip it back onto his arrangement of belts as they got out. Cid climbed onto the roof of the van with one of Leon’s guns and his own walkie to stand guard while Leon and Axel headed into the debris.

If Midgar looked hideous from the outside, it was at least five times as bad on the inside, and the stench was overwhelming.

There were bodies lying in their own stagnant blood, crushed under fallen debris with their eyes still open, dark bruises and pale skin showing just how long they had been dead. The scent of toxic chemicals mingled oddly with the scent of decaying bodies, and Axel had pulled his shirt up to cover the lower half of his face in the same fashion that Larxene had. Leon simply made a face at it all, opting to breathe through his mouth instead.

Most of the buildings were completely flattened, but Irvine was on top of a building that had a slab of cement on top like a hat, rifle out and eyes scanning. Cars were shattered and crushed, cadavers still stuck inside of them. Family pets and small livestock were also among the disaster, and their own speed through the wreckage was so slow in advancement that it was a small wonder that it would take them at least until dawn to find anything worth their while.

But it was only twenty minutes into their search that Larxene piped up over the radio.

_“Hey Cid, you like menthols, right? I got a present for ya.”_

* * *

 

Seifer may have been upset about being left behind during the supply run to Midgar (after all, he _had_ been the first to notice it had fallen, and that had to mean something), but the power of being left in charge of two new recruits, for lack of a better word, had clearly gone to his head.

They were standing in the room that Cloud had woken up in so many days ago, in all of its blood-stained cement glory, and a variety of weapons were laid out on the table as he guided Aerith and Cloud inside of the dimly lit room.

“You two gotta start hauling your own weight so nobody’s gotta stay back and babysit you again,” he deadpanned, pushing Aerith towards the table first. “You need a weapon. Preferrably something you can learn fast and well. You want it to be an extension of yourself, and ya wanna be able to do a one-hit kill with it. You’re obviously gonna need to work out, and Chicken Wuss over here—“

“It’s Cloud.”

“—can’t wield shit until his arm heals. So you pick first, Bright Eyes.”

Aerith frowned at the array, the tremble in her hands still noticeable as her fingers ghosted over the choices. There were pistols, semi-automatics, rifles, swords, knives, axes, even a crowbar. She was clearly uncomfortable with the aspect of fighting, and a small noise was made in the back of her throat as her hand withdrew.

“Just pick something,” Seifer pushed, arms crossing over his chest in impatience. “Whatever you think you can wield easiest.”

But she stepped away from the table, walking to the back wall, where a second door was located. Seifer’s mouth opened to scold her for running away from the choice, but she merely grabbed a garden-grade shovel off of the wall and turned back to the scarred blond.

“I can use this.”

Seifer raised a brow, though Cloud wasn’t so surprised, given what Irvine had told him earlier that week.

“I’ve been gardening ever since I was little,” she murmured, shifting uncomfortably under Seifer’s scrutiny. “I’ve been holding shovels and spades since I could hold a grip. You told me to pick a weapon that’s an extension of myself, and… this is the best I can think of.”

“But do you think you can kill with it?”

Cloud noticed the way her fingers tightened, the way her constant tremors faded away.

“If I need to.”

“Yes or no.”

She swallowed, and Cloud noticed the fragility in her stance suddenly disappear. She was strong—He knew that. He had ridden on her back for god-knows-how long when she was in one of her worst states. He watched her trim trees and lug leaves around for fertilizer. He had watched her and Zack carry two-by-fours out to help build a proper shed for her gardening supplies. He had watched her dig irrigation ditches, watched her help their neighbors lift obese pigs into crates to be taken to a slaughter house, watched her carry a sleeping Sora to bed, carry a pile of firewood inside, hammer down shingles on the roof. She had been mediator for fights, talked them through the dark places in their minds, hold back her own tears just so she might give comfort to someone else that needed it. She was selfless to the core, and she took pride in that.

“Yes.”

Aerith Gainsborough was a very strong woman.

“Then prove it.”

The atmosphere in the room abruptly changed as Seifer shoved the table up against the wall with a horrible scratching sound as the wood scraped cement, Aerith awkwardly moving near Cloud, the shovel still gripped tight in her hands. Seifer grabbed the crowbar from the table and glanced over at Cloud.

“Shut the door.”

He hesitated, but obeyed, blinking in the even dimmer light of the room, provided by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Seifer pointed at Aerith’s shovel, giving a quick “You better be right” before the door was opened.

He was in Nibelheim, staring down the barrel of a gun as Tifa sobbed and thrashed and screamed in pain, groaning and moaning coming from an infected trying to shove its way through a boarded-up window. She was begging him, sobbing, and he couldn’t separate her sobs from his anymore and he fired and the boards cracked and broke and he fired again just to make sure she was dead and didn’t have to suffer and Sora was screaming and Roxas came in like a bat out of hell with a golf club, slamming it into the infected’s skull and it crumpled, already missing an arm, and _god_ —

It was missing its arms, its jaw had been completely cleared off, there was a stake through its throat to keep it from making noise, and it was gray and horrible and its eyes were glassy and unseeing and Seifer was holding it like a sick shish-ka-bob on the curved end of the crowbar through its stomach, standing behind the shuffling, disgusting monster and it was _terrible_.

“Hit it!”

Cloud was screaming, slamming his sword down on infected after infected as he tried to get his brothers through and into the parking garage, screaming for them to hurry, jumping in front of some obese infected with a bloated stomach and cutting his arm on an outcropping of cement, blood flowing free as he killed the final monster, pain not even registering as long as his brothers were _okay_ —

Aerith rushed in after only milliseconds of hesitation, a scream ripping from her throat in exertion as she swung the shovel like a big league swinger, the blade of the makeshift weapon right at the perfect spot as it slammed into the infected’s skull, creating a sick _crunch_ and Seifer’s grip failing as the thing crumpled, gray matter and blood now littering the ground as Aerith stumbled with the force behind the blow.

There was blood and gray matter and little blond hairs and bits of skull swirling down the drain while Sora cried in the other room.

“Yeah!” was the hyped-up cheer of Seifer, kicking the lifeless body while it was down before ripping the crowbar free, guts and stagnant blood tearing free with it while Aerith panted and used her shovel to keep herself standing, eyes wide but no signs of tremors or illness.

Cloud vomited.

Little bits of brain sprayed against the wall, Tifa's face hardly even recognizable, Roxas being carried off to a burning pit, Sora clinging to him, shoving him into a helicopter, blades chopping and roaring, chopping up a wild rabbit for food, chopping bruised undead skin—

Aerith dropped her shovel like it was burning, rushing over to place a hand between Cloud's shoulder blades.

Blood on a football field, blood on his kitchen floor, parents mauled beyond recognition, an old church bible soaked in blood in the chest pocket of an infected without a heart, groaning, shuffling, a security alarm blaring, his brother writhing in pain, _just shoot me—_

Seifer threw the body back into the closet and announced that it was time to make lunch.

* * *

 

“But why was he keeping an infected in there?” His voice was not trembling, not weak. Just… monotone. His attack earlier, which he wanted to forget had even happened, had only lasted five minutes, if that. He had vomited, he hyperventilated, and Aerith said "It's okay" and he wanted to scream, but it was over then. Now he was numb again, memories still in the back of his head even as he focused with unwavering concentration on peeling the potatoes in a bucket Seifer had laid out for them, the other man out to find leftover rice from breakfast to go with the starch.

“Maybe for that reason… To test out weapons. There’s… there’s a lot of blood in there.” Cloud’s voice may have been strong, but Aerith’s was still trembling. Whether it was fear or leftover adrenaline, he didn't know. Aerith didn't even _really_ know. 

“When I attacked it, I just… I felt so _angry_. To know that because of them, because of that virus, everyone has lost so much… And what Irvine brought up about Mom—To think that it’s been around my whole life, but just then was the first time I saw it. I wanted to kill it… I wanted to kill it so _bad_.” Her hands shook more violently, knife slipping and cutting her thumb. She hissed a bit in pain and dropped the potato she had been working on, but her knuckles were still white on the knife. “That person… It was a person once… He had a family, friends, a _life_ —“

“Don’t think of them like that,” Cloud cut across, picking up her unfinished potato to finish it for her. “They aren’t the person they were. They’re just a shell that's infected. They've lost their mind and anything that makes them human.”

“But—“

“When Roxas was bit…” He swallowed, taking a deep breath before his hands cooperated with his work again. “It was close to twenty-four hours when he started… It was like he was having seizures. He couldn’t control his body anymore. And Tifa… She got bit closer to her head. She lost control around the same time, though. She was seizing, she even struck out at me and tried to bite me before she… wanted me to kill her. They lose control. It’s like they’re possessed… They aren’t people anymore, Aerith. Just viruses.”

“But…”

“Stop. We need to kill them. That’s the only way we can stay alive and get back to the way things were.”

“But what happens when we can’t fight anymore…? There has to be another way. It’s so secure here, so why do we have to fight?”

“This isn’t self-sustaining. Yeah, there’s a garden, but that’s it. No livestock, no medicine, no nothing. We can’t even fix the tire on my bike without going out and trying to find one out there. It’s dangerous. It’s going to stay dangerous until we find a cure.”

“But—“

He dropped the potato into the peeled bucket, eyes darting up to Aerith and shooting her a look much more frigid than he had intended. “Stop it. Buts and What-ifs aren't going to do anything but make you more paranoid. We have to be strong. That’s the only way we can get through this.”

Because that was the only option. If they were weak, if he had panic attacks and passed out, then nothing would change. They would die of their own weaknesses, not the living hell outside. They may have even been the last ones outside of a quarantine. They had to be strong. That was the only option anymore.

“But I’m not strong, Cloud.”

He put his knife down, reaching over to gently take Aerith’s from her, not liking the way the fragile-mindedness was re-entering her eyes. “You are. You helped raise Riku, Xion, and Sora. You kept us safe, fed, and a roof over our heads. You talked us through the tough times, and you put up with our depression and crying and our shitty moments. You listened to me bawl about what happened to Roxas and Tifa and my parents. You taught me how to be responsible and how to be useful. You never gave up, and you even took us to Wall Market thinking that you might be able to save us by sending us through the gate there. And you just killed an infected with a _shovel_. You’re strong, Aerith, and it’s going to be okay, as long as we're strong.”

He really, _really_ needed to stop saying that.

* * *

 

 _“The truck’s full. Start puttin’ stuff in the van, but be careful. Sun’s almost gone,_ ” were Cid’s grainy orders, still perched on the van, a sense of pride as Larxene threw a tire into the heaping back of the truck, deeming it no longer fit for anymore stuffing.

 _“Got it,”_ was Leon’s reply, currently within the deepest middle of the sector, the sun having long dipped below the line of the wall. He had grabbed a backpack from the truck after making his first two trips, and the thing was full to bursting by now. He had found another, however, amidst the rubble that was already packed with supplies, as if the man that had died while carrying it had known something was to happen. Axel wasn’t too far off, picking his way through the debris with a bloodstained gym bag stuffed to the brim and a backpack of his own.

They all found it a little odd that they hadn’t come across any infected after so long.

That didn’t mean that they were upset about it—Quite the opposite. The absence of infected or other scavengers made their job much easier, even if a little eerie. They had already filled the truck with food, medicine, weapons, tools, and even old tires and clothes that weren’t completely stained in blood or destroyed. Leon had even found soap and shampoo in bulk, making up most of the weight in his backpack. Axel had gotten his grabbing hands on batteries, kitchenware, blankets, and a handful of matchboxes. While Cid was plenty happy with Larxene delivering an entire case and a half of cigarettes, he had a feeling that they would be ready to go even _before_ dawn, at this rate. It was amazing how many belongings hadn’t been completely destroyed by the falling Plate or exploding reactors.

Everything was going extremely smoothly, of course, until a few moments before midnight when the static broke through the eerie silence.

 _“Cid, someone’s coming for the entrance. Be ready_. _”_

And just like that, he slid off the roof of the van, gun in one hand and flashlight in the other. He wasn’t too worried about being spotted—The light had already given him away, and if that hadn’t, then it was Irvine’s muted warning on a walkie that had the volume on two out of ten. It wasn’t long before he heard his assailant either—There was the steady crunching of concrete rubble as someone approached, and Cid’s beam soon landed on a long, pale face. The footsteps halted at the discovery, and black gloved hands raised in a slow sign of surrender.

“I had a feeling you would show up. Now can you please shine that anywhere but my eyes?”

Cid sighed around his chewed-up toothpick, the beam lowering until it shined on the man’s chest, reflecting off of scuffed leather to at least provide enough light to see each other. After all, with the sky so blackened with soot, the moon and stars weren’t much to rely on.

“Yeah, and what of it? What’re you doin’ out here at this time o' night, Sephiroth?”

The man’s hands lowered as his shoulders rolled in a shrug, catlike eyes scanning over what the Balamb team had already scavenged. “I’m here to warn you. You need to withdraw immediately.”

“Like hell we are. Ya see all this shit we got already? We ain’t pullin’ out ‘til we got it all.”

A step closer was delivered, but Cid didn’t step back, allowing the distance to close.

“Searches are conducted from now until dawn. Anyone alive is taken.”

“Alive? Shit, there ain’t anyone else here!”

“Because they’ve been taken.”

He scowled, finally tucking his gun back into the holster beside his axe. “Clarify for me, will ya?”

He didn’t even hesitate, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his side against the front bumper of the van. “Hojo’s behind all of this. He wanted to tear down the Plate and rupture the reactors. Corpses that aren’t crushed have been taken for testing, and anyone alive is taken as well. I’ve been mercy killing—“ He paused to gesture at his hip, where his usual sword lay, only this time, coated in blood. “—because that’s better than being a damn lab rat. I haven’t killed any of yours, so don’t give me that look. I’m telling you to get out before anyone else finds you. Walking around with radios and flashlights isn’t very stealthy of you, and it's only a matter of time before the others find yours. Get out while you can.”

“Like hell we’re gonna leave without—“

Static interrupted, and Cid felt a little colder.

_“There’s a lot more. They came outta nowhere—We gotta pull back. They have ShinRa grade weapons.”_

_“Cid? The cars ready?”_

Cid turned back to Sephiroth, only to see the man nod in the light of his flashlight. He scowled before snatching his walkie, pushing down the button to reply. “Pull back now. We’re leaving.”

“I’m coming with you,” Sephiroth announced as soon as the walkie was re-clipped to Cid’s belt. “I’d like to verify Laguna’s information myself. Hojo's already found it on the forums you posted.”

And of course, he wasn’t going to argue. He had been planning on getting Sephiroth in to take a look at the coded information for a while now, but there was slight hesitation. Even Sephiroth knew that Laguna had gotten information out of Hojo’s headquarters. But there wasn’t _time_ to hesitate—The radio was already buzzing again.

 _“There’s infected near the entrance. Everyone pull back_ now _.”_

Cid groaned, rubbing at his chin as a beam of light indicated that one of their own was busy clamoring through the debris-clogged gate. Sephiroth moved around him to look, though his body language was still stiff and formal. Though, for Sephiroth, that was not unusual.

“Get in the damn van before anyone asks questions.”

“Who’s getting in the van?” came Larxene’s voice as she stepped over the rubble, heading for the truck. She paused upon her light falling on Sephiroth, however, but just shook her head after a moment of quiet contemplation. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll see you guys back at base.”

“You gotta wait for Irvine anyway,” Cid muttered, glancing over his shoulder to watch Sephiroth slide open the backseat door and get inside, quietly wondering how the man managed to _not_ sit on his own hair. “We’re leaving as soon as everyone gets back.”

The woman only gave an exaggerated groan at that, throwing her bag into the open backseat of the truck. “You _know_ he’s gonna be the last one down here.”

“Then it’s good ya got patience,” he teased, flashing her a toothy grin before she gave _another_ dramatic groan of despair, moving to sit on the rear bumper of the truck.

“We’re coming back, right?” That was Axel, slipping through the gate with Leon close on his tail. “We left _so_ much shi—Whoa, whoa, who’s in my seat?” He froze, back trunk halfway open and bag ready to be thrown in, eyes finding the back of Sephiroth’s head. He whirled on Cid next, who was helping Leon load his bags and other findings in through the other back door of the van. His own things finally shoved in, he hurried over to the two, grabbing Cid by the shoulder. “Can we _talk_ for a second?”

Cid slapped the offensive hand away, jutting a thumb towards the backseat. “When we get back. Get in the fuckin’ van, Axel.”

“But he—“

“We need to go,” Sephiroth cut, giving the hesitant redhead a look as sharp as daggers. “We’ll talk on the drive.”

“Yeah, just leave me here!” Larxene wailed, feinting being scared of her own shadow as Cid got in, started the van, and put it into gear. She relinquished, however, crossing her arms over her chest with a rude gesture at the retreating van. “Men! You’re all the same!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter's a little short, but it would have been awkward to cut it in a different place. Hopefully I can keep up with this updating pace, yeah?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick shoutout to JollyBigSis and ultimateninjaofdoom for literally commenting on every chapter and giving me motivation to keep writing this undead clusterfuck <3

**WORLDWIDE > MEDICAL > ABOUT > INFECTION Z**

**ANON016592**

**The medically correct definition of a virus is that it is a small infectious agent that replicates only inside the living cells of other organisms and life forms.**

**But such a definition seems to contradict the reality of the infection, often called Infection Z, but not holding an actual medical term. Infection Z infects the host through direct contact with blood, saliva, or, in cases such as the Winhill Epidemic, ingestion. The information gathered by doctors and even common folk throughout the past near-six years proved a series of surprising truths, and others began to question whether Infection Z was really a virus or just some end-all plan by whatever God is playing around with us.**

**When the infection initially enters the blood stream, it works quickly. The average time it takes for a full change, at present, is twenty-six hours, and constantly getting faster. At the beginning of the epidemic, it was not uncommon for an infection of a bite to take up to seventy-two hours or more, but as the years have passed, the virus has only gotten stronger.**

**The science behind what happens when the infected virus cells enter the body is baffling, at best. The virus simply kills off every cell in its wake, from blood cells to flesh itself. It seems to speed up the rate of decomposition, and when the virus reaches the brain through the bloodstream, it kills off every part of the fully functional human brain and duplicates infected virus cells as if some pilot taking control of a plane. The human that once existed within the flesh and bone is gone, replaced by a mindless monster.**

**A fully infected human will only act on the instinct to eat, and yet they do not digest. The stomach and intestines of a fully infected human no longer work, and any acid that was left in the stomach dissolves into the fleshy lining of the organ. Even if an infected’s stomach is bloated, exploded, or not even there anymore, an infected will still eat. Analogies have been made to compare the infected to a piece of machinery that only performs one task, and will attempt to complete that task until the power source is completely destroyed.**

**For infected individuals, that source is located in the brain. This is where the virus has replicated brain cells in order to take command, causing the body of an infected to act as if a virus itself, with the sole intent of passing on the disease. This does not explain why infected insist on eating when they can, however, and scientists around the world are still trying to crack the coding in such a virus.**

**The second downfall, aside from infected only having one weak spot, as pain receptors are completely destroyed within an infection, is that the virus is evolving at alarming rates. In the early stages, infected were said to return to their place of residency, cower from weapons, or even attempt speech. These side effects were only seen in the early infected located around the metropolitan cities surrounding Midgar, but a few were noted to exist in farther places such as Junon or a mountain village called Nibelheim. Once these infected died off, as an infected will only be mobile for up to two years before they decompose completely, a new wave of infected was noted. These infected seemed to be able to communicate with each other, and hordes became a much more common thing. They hunt in packs, yet when their prey falls, they will all try to rush the corpse at once, acting as if the other members of their horde do not exist.**

**The kind of infected we are dealing with now seem to decompose at a slower rate, yet infection and transformation has been reported to occur in as little as twelve hours. Because they decompose at a slower rate, they are more agile, and reports have shown that they can even jump and run now, rather than the slow shuffle they once displayed at the beginning of the epidemic.**

**Information is always welcome and is always being collected. If you have any information regarding symptoms or new evolutions of the known Infection Z, please reply to this thread or send an email to—**

Aerith felt very, very ill.

She had been up all night, long after Seifer left to stand watch at the sniping post and Cloud had gone to sleep. The power was shut off, as it always was, but she had simply re-arranged the cords and gotten one of Cid’s many computers working. She had been reading posts in forums for so long that her eyes were dry and sore and she was now shaking- not of fear, but of exhaustion.

But after reading so many survivor stories, and now something about Infection Z, she doubted she would be able to sleep without nightmares.

She scrolled down to the bottom of the page, only to find that one reply had been given to the initial post, and she found herself reading it before she could click the little X in the corner to exit the horror that was going to haunt her wherever she went.

**> ANON021083**

**I’m a soldier stationed up at the Crater. We’ve discovered that, no matter how quickly the infection evolves or how much the infected change, they will always freeze solid in the winter. Their joints seem to stick and they turn brittle, like glass, making it easy for us to don coats and pick them off. This also works in our favor, as hibernating animals during the winter months will not become infected. The freezing also applies to animals, meaning that every spring, we’re presented with healthy hunting targets. This is one of the reasons the Crater is so secure, but there are other problems.**

**As mentioned in the previous post, the infection can only be spread in very small ways. However, other illnesses can spread by any way possible. We lose roughly forty percent of our population every year to simple illnesses, and we’ve seen someone with a flu develop symptoms too close to Infection Z for comfort. We put them down as soon as they began showing these signs, but we’ve had others fall ill to the same thing.**

**It is not a real infection unless the eyes glass over, they feel no pain, and the skin becomes the bruised. If those symptoms are not present, it’s a simple delusion. These sufferers will bite, attack, and act so much like infected that they can often be killed. We’ve tried to use psychosis treatments, but to no avail. We have sent a few off to Midgar in the past for testing, but received nothing in reply.**

**Please be careful of delusional individuals, as they are still a very real threat, but can be stopped if pain is inflicted upon them.**

Something hard and cold settled in her stomach as she quickly clicked away, scrolling through forums for _something_ that seemed to be optimistic. But she found nothing, and that cold, hard something sank lower when she saw the title of a forum that hadn’t been updated since four days ago.

**MIDGARIAN FORUM**

Holding her breath, she clicked the link, scanning over the options and settling for **INTERNAL**.

There was only one sub-forum under that, and she clicked on it after a moment of struggle. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to read what was inside, but it might help to explain something to her about the apparent downfall of the enormous city.

**MIDGARIAN FORUM > INTERNAL > CHICKEN LITTLE**

**ANON000482- 8:47**

**heard the plates gonna fall at 10am! the whole thing! packing right now!**

**> ANON000049- 8:55**

**won’t fall. the president’s still in upper plate. wouldn’t kill himself would he?**

Blood still horribly chilled, she clicked the button at the bottom to take her to the most recent page, scrolling down until she came to the final post.

**> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>ANON000928**

**reactors blew. nothing left to hold the plate. pray!**

What the hell had happened in Midgar?

“What’re ya doin’?”

She nearly screamed in surprise, jumping in the chair and turning so fast that she heard her back crack. Cid stood in the doorway, the door falling shut behind him before he replaced the stained fire ax back to its place. He turned off the flashlight in his hand and sat it on the table Aerith was sitting at, leaning over so he might see her screen. She was a bit curious as to why he was back so soon, but couldn’t find the voice to ask him.

“Hackin’ into our saved power?”

She quickly pulled her hands back, as if the mouse and keyboard had suddenly ignited, or she was caught stealing cookies from the jar, folding them in her lap as she looked blankly at the table like a child scorned. “N-no, I just—“

“Couldn’t wait ‘til mornin’, huh?”

She blinked, turning to look up at Cid with wide eyes as he took a seat in the chair next to hears, any anger dissolving as he melted into the old fabric. He fished out a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket, flipping it open and grabbing one before offering it to Aerith.

“I don’t—“

“It helps the stress.”

She hesitated, but grabbed one anyway. Cid gave her a small nod before pulling a light from the same pocket, lighting his own before Aerith’s, leaning back again once it was done. He chuckled a little bit as Aerith coughed with her first inhale, his own cigarette perched between his lips.

“Don’t breathe on it too bad. Y’ever smoked before?”

Another little cough, her face contorting at the way it felt in her mouth and down her throat. “N-no,” she rasped, not liking the teasing glint in Cid’s eye.

“Just hold the smoke in your mouth for a bit. Don't take too much out. Inhale it once it cools.”

A bit more instruction was needed before Aerith stopped choking and hacking, and her stiff posture relaxed into her own chair. Cid unplugged the computer and re-arranged the wires she had messed with, but didn’t resume his seat. The flashlight was turned on and pointed at the ceiling to provide light, the ends of their cigarettes glowing orange in the darkness.

“You should get t’ bed, Aerith.”

She sighed, taking a little joy in the way smoke tickled out of her nose. “I can’t…”

“At least try, yeah?”

She shook her head, rolling the cigarette between her fingers in worry before she found herself blurting out what exactly was keeping her from rest.

“I killed an infected today. Seifer had one in the weapons’ room and I killed it with a shovel. I wasn’t scared, I was just—I’m so _angry_ about it. This stupid virus took everything from me, and now Xion, Riku, and Sora are all dead because of it and if it had never fucking started—“

“Whoa, whoa,” Cid interrupted, brows raising at the first vulgar word he had heard the petite woman say. Her breathing was suddenly heavy, hands trembling with anger, grip on her cigarette so tight that it was any wonder it didn’t break. “First of all, he shouldn’t’ve done that. We were savin’ that infected down there for tracking. But, uh… I guess it’s good ya got exposure. And at least y’ain’t scared of ‘em.”

“I’m terrified,” was the whispered confession, knees being pulled up onto the chair as she balled up, cigarette still burning, temporarily unused, in her hand. “To think that because of them, because of a stupid virus, everything’s being destroyed. We have to fight to stop it, but we’re so outnumbered… People are turning on people, and the infected are between us. What if cities like Midgar, the other quarantines, fall? What if rations run dry and we run out of land for crops or livestock? We’re living on a tiny little greenhouse and scavenging. It’s not going to last forever. We need a cure, or just some way to kill off infected. Humans… We’re built for survival, but this is just…” She rubbed her unoccupied hand across her face, feeling tears and dirt and grime. “It’s not impossible though, is it?”

There was a brief pause before Cid let out a soft laugh, colder than amusement.

“Seifer was right. Yer strong as hell.”

* * *

 

That morning, Cloud was woken up by the buzz of static and Cid’s grainy voice.

_“Emergency meeting in the lobby. Now.”_

Of course, he didn’t move, wondering if he faked sleep that he would be exempt from whatever meeting was going on. But Leon climbed down from his bunk and Cloud heard the rustle of fabric as he dressed before his voice shattered any hope of sleep that Cloud still held onto.

“I know you’re awake. This meeting’s probably about you.”

He groaned, sitting up and pushing the sheets off of himself. Leon tossed him a shirt and left the room, giving the final order of “Hurry up” before the door latched shut again.

He dressed carefully, maneuvering his pained arm awkwardly to avoid hurting himself any further. He wondered idly what the meeting would be about—Was it about him leaving, or being unable to help due to his injuries? Would it be about Aerith and her own usefulness? Would it be that Cloud would be shooed off to the sniping post just to get him away for a while?

There was only one way to find out, and Cloud soon found himself perched on the front desk of the lobby, watching Cid finish off his cigarette and flick it into the trashcan beside the wall of dormitory mailboxes. Larxene was sitting on only couch, Axel squeezed on one side and Seifer on the other. She seemed oddly blank, not like her usual self. Her eyes were sharp on Leon, who was pacing the length of the large room like some kind of caged animal. A man, tall and strangely elegant, stood in the doorway, clothed in a black leather trench coat over a bare chest and dark pants. His arms were folded, yet the look on his face was one of peaceful consideration. Cloud, honestly, found himself staring at the new man with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

“We’re all here now,” Axel prodded, looking to Cid. “Can we start now, or what?”

Aerith piped up from her place beside Cloud, the bags under her eyes even bigger today. “What about Irvine? He's not here yet.”

Suddenly, all eyes went to Larxene.

Leon stopped pacing, arms tight over his chest, hands gripping his own biceps to keep himself from lashing out at the seated woman before him. Axel shifted beside her, almost defensive as Leon spat poison words into the air. “He’s dead. Larxene killed him.”

Aerith looked ready to faint.

“I didn’t kill him!” Larxene shouted, fists curling on her thighs as she met narrowed gray eyes.

And suddenly, Leon’s restraint broke free.

“He had the keys, and you drove back! You waited until we left! Your knives had blood on them—“

“Because there were infected and some fucking bandits—!"

“And you came back with his weapons! You went through his damn pockets—“

“I didn’t kill him!”

The sound of skin slapping skin filled the air, Larxene’s cheek turned red, and Axel was on his feet and shoving Leon back against the desk beside Cloud and Aerith, a knife at the man's throat.

“Calm. The hell. Down,” he enunciated, words like fire as the knife pressed into Leon’s skin, a miniscule drop of blood appearing at the tip. “She did _not_ kill him.”

“Then who did?”

Cid snapped over whatever Axel was about to say in response, a pistol suddenly in his hand and aimed at the back of Axel’s head. “Drop the knife.”

Tense seconds were spared as Axel stared down the small barrel of the weapon, but he only moved when Leon relaxed. Two steps back, hands up, and the knife was replaced into his pocket.

“It was one of the other scavengers,” was Larxene’s voice, uncharacteristically small as she rose to her feet. “I tried to help—that’s what all the blood’s from –but he threw his weapons down and surrendered. They took him away.”

“How can we trust you?” Leon muttered, rubbing at his neck as he straightened, gray eyes burning holes in the woman in question.

“It’s highly probable that she’s telling the truth,” came the smooth baritone of the stranger, his stance having not changed a bit. “As I told Cid, there were ShinRa soldiers capturing those who were living and even unharmed corpses. It’s very likely that he was taken to be part of Hojo’s experiments.”

“Hojo?” parroted Aerith, her color still pale and not quite normal.

“He’s a scientist in Midgar,” Cid explained. “The information you came with from Laguna is from 'im. He’s got the biggest leads on the outbreak and the virus. It’s possible he’s testin’ for a cure.”

“It’s not just possible,” Sephiroth argued, tone and stance as monotone as ever. “He already has a cure. He’s testing the virus.”

Silence covered them, Larxene slowly sinking back into her seat. Aerith grabbed for Cloud’s hand, her grip clammy and tight. Cid was staring at Sephiroth as if he’d sprouted a second head (which wasn't much different than the way he had been staring) and Leon was staring numbly at the floor.

“Where do you think the virus came from? It sure didn’t evolve from the common cold. It’s manmade, and man-tested. Its original aim was to create a superhuman that would not age or be killed. The first test results went bad, and that’s how the outbreak started. He dumped the failures in Junon to lead anyone off his tracks. Once Midgar became a quarantine, he dumped them miles outside of the walls and they traveled from there.

"All of these evolutions are also just different strands that he’s tried and given up on. He’s progressing the disease now in hopes that it’ll be widespread. When humanity is at its absolute limits, he’ll come out with the cure and the perfected strand, and save the world. He’ll inject himself with the successful strand and aims to be worshipped as a god of the world. I am the closest he has gotten to that ideal.”

There was another pause before a laugh forced its way out, Axel looking almost delirious. “Yeah, good story. How about you tell us the truth now?”

“I did,” he deadpanned, leveling snake-like eyes at the redhead. “If I went into anymore detail, you still wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me,” came Leon, his expression matched almost exactly to Sephiroth’s.

There was a grin, too cocky and not amused in the slightest. “I don’t like to go all-in when I gamble.”

“How can we trust a damn word that comes outta your mouth?” Axel muttered, sinking onto the couch beside Larxene, who seems incredibly enraptured by every word that fell from the pale man’s mouth. 

“The same way you can trust Larxene. In time.”

Cid sighed, the pistol that he had nearly forgotten about being tucked away. “We’ll talk in private.”

“Oh hell no!” Seifer finally piped up, rocking to his feet, red in the face with anger. “You can’t just keep shit from us! If you can say it t’ Cid, you can say it t’ all of us! And stop bringing my sister into this—She ain’t the one that killed Irvine, so stop it! Stop keepin’ us in the dark already!”

That grin was still there, and Cloud felt increasingly uncomfortable.

“Then allow me to take a look at the data Laguna retrieved for you. Then, I’ll lay things out as straight and easily as I can.”

“How do we know you’re not a spy for Hojo?” Seifer demanded, not at _all_ pleased with the way things were turning out.

The grin abruptly faded, the man looking much more murderous than before. “I have no loyalty to that bastard. I wish to see him dead, but the simple fact of the matter is that he’s three steps ahead at all times. I’m risking my life and freedom just to come here to help you thankless _peons_. I wish for no more than someone to undermine the professor before he perfects this serum, and to get the cure out of his hands. There’s no point in being a god if the world’s destroyed anyway, but all he wants is immortality. We have to kill him before he succeeds.”

“So you’d be willing to take us back to Midgar to kill him?”

All eyes shot to Seifer, but Sephiroth’s words successfully snuffed out the brief look of hope.

“He’s three steps ahead at all times, as I already stated. Any deeper into the city than you went yesterday and you’ll be slaughtered or taken for testing. And that’s under the best conditions. Hojo already knows you’re here, and if you present a threat, he will kill you. He has an army of his own, on top of ShinRa’s remaining forces. And they’re like me.”

“Like you?”

Acidic green bored into the scar between Seifer’s eyes as if he was cutting it open again. “Highly skilled, highly trained, and highly resistant to any attempt of murder.”

“But—“

“If you return to Midgar, you _will_ be slaughtered. That is not a warning, but an absolute truth.”

“Then what are we s’posed to do?” muttered Cid, fishing another cigarette from his pocket. “We let you look at the data, big whoop. Then what?”

“Then, if I can decode it correctly, and if he’s written the beginnings of a cure, we send it off to professionals at the Crater. Hojo has spies all over, but the only one he had up in the Crater was killed off by the flu epidemic that swept through this past winter. The doctors there may be able to formulate and distribute the cure.”

“And then?”

The grin was back, and Cloud was reminded of one of Nibelheim’s wolves with a blood-soaked maw, not unlike those that had likely torn his parents to shreds.

“And then we kill Professor Hojo and reclaim humanity.”

“And what about you? You have the virus too, don’t you?” Leon pushed, still staring him down as if it was some kind of contest.

“The virus within my veins is not a virus, but genetic code. I cannot infect others. The only way to do so would be to procreate, but the coding has made me sterile, so your worries are without warrant.”

“Just being careful. Cid?”

The man sighed a cloud of smoke, heading back for the hall and gesturing for Sephiroth to follow. “The lab’s this way.”

The group dispersed then, Leon leaving first to go back to the room, Cloud and Aerith following after him as Seifer and Axel spoke quietly to a slightly-shaken Larxene. Aerith ducked into the kitchenette to try to make something for breakfast, but Leon returned to his shared room and Cloud found himself following him in.

“Who was that?”

Leon didn’t answer until he had grabbed up the black case that his gunblade resided in, sitting on the floor with a well-used cloth to begin cleaning it as Cloud sat on the lower bunk. “That was Sephiroth. He’s a two-faced informant. He’s useful, but we can’t trust him fully, because of what he just decided to tell us. He’s well within ShinRa’s jurisdiction, moreso in Hojo’s, and he only stops buy a few days out of the month to help us either decode what little of Hojo’s notes we have, or to help us fight. This is the first time we’ve gotten a big haul from Hojo, though, so hopefully he’ll prove himself today.”

He suddenly recalled what Irvine had told him when he had just arrived with Aerith, and the odd comment that there were less people on good days. He had a feeling that was a reference to Sephiroth, and the little trust that they had in the silver-haired man. He wondered what exactly was in that little data chip that Laguna had asked of them to deliver, and if doing so was really going to make much of a difference. If it was useless, then had he left Midgar in vain? Instead of spending his final moments with his brother, was he going to live out here, in hell underground, for the rest of his likely short life? But if it was useful, would that mean that sacrificing his brother in a dire attempt to keep him safe had lead to a successful cure and hope widespread around the world?

It was too soon to guess, but Sora’s life wasn’t worth either of those options. He had been the only blood-related family Cloud had left, and to think that he had lost him was so painful that it didn't even completely register. And it likely  _wouldn't_ register until he saw the destruction for himself with his brother's broken body laying out for him to see.

But he didn't want to think about that right now. He was still trying to process what Sephiroth had said, that this whole thing was just because some egotistical scientist wanted to achieve immortality. There was the desire to find this Hojo guy and kill him. No, not to _kill_ him. To find him, to show him the hell he had created, to make him suffer, to make him watch everything he loved be ripped apart and bathed in blood. He wanted- No, he  _needed_ to make him suffer. He needed to find him, to convince Sephiroth to get him into Midgar, no matter how dangerous it was. He didn't even want to wait for his arm to heal. He needed to get some sort of revenge for his deceased family.

But what if Sora had been taken? What if he was alive, being forced into submission for some sick man's experiments? That meant there was still a chance, and wherever Irvine had ended up, Sora could be with him.

He needed to get to Midgar, but he didn't need to let anyone else know he was going. He wanted to do this  _himself_.

So he opted for small talk, because he was pretty sure the near-manic expression on his face was going to trigger Leon into saying something if he didn't try to cover it up.

“This means that Irvine… he’s gone?”

Leon nodded stiffly, still focused on intricately cleaning his weapon and not sparing Cloud even a peripheral glance. It was a habit of his to clean his weapon, Cloud had noticed, and he wondered if it was some kind of OCD he had when he was stressed or just bored.

“Do you really think Larxene did it?”

“It wouldn’t be unlike her.”

“She’s… killed before?”

“Not necessarily, but…” There was a shake of the head, busy hands working to dismantle the gun to clean it. “You don’t need to know.”

“If I’m going to be a part of this group, I’d like to know who to trust,” he muttered bitterly, not liking the look Leon shot him before he went back to cleaning.

“No one said you’re a part of our _group_.”

“But you need more hands to help, and I'm here now.”

“Yeah, and you have one good arm and half your ribs. You can't do anything like that.”

He scowled, fingers clenching into a fist despite the pain it caused to shudder up his arm. “I’ll heal.”

“We can’t afford to feed you while you heal for the next six weeks.”

“I can hunt.” Hunting only needed one arm, right? He could use a gun, a knife, traps, anything. He still remembered how to build traps that the infected would ignore, but would attract little things like rabbits or big things like deer. "I can help." He needed to stay here, no matter what.

He needed to be there for Aerith now that Irvine was gone.

The ragged cloth was snapped, Leon’s eyes looking as stormy as ever, yet there was consideration and hesitation there. For the second time in twenty-four hours, Cloud saw himself as being that stoic, emotions raging only under the surface of things.

“Then you better prove yourself, Cloud.”

“I will.”

There was a brief silence in which Leon continued his intricate cleaning, Cloud scooting back to fold his legs onto the mattress and poke at his bandaged arm. It felt a bit sore, as expected, but he was a little surprised at his own rate of healing. They hadn’t been giving him painkillers, unfortunately—As Larxene had rather _rudely_ put, he hadn’t “deserved it” yet.

This entire place seemed to rest on a foundation of _deserving_.

“Next week, you should be able to start some kind of physical therapy,” Leon grumbled, half to himself and half to the man on the bed. “You can help clear debris to build up the muscle you already have, too. I have a hard time believing some skinny guy like you can really wield the Fusion to its full ability.”

“I can carry it,” he argued, beginning to gently massage the sore spots in his arm to help aid the swelling. Physical therapy sounded like a good idea though—But it was still a little weird to hear Leon offering to help him out after so many instances of implying that the current arrangement was only short term. Really though, after _whatever_ that guy with the silver hair had said, nothing really made sense anymore.

Leon simply scoffed at him, reassembling his weapon and tucking it back into its case with the love of a mother tucking in an infant to its cradle. “Don’t say that until you can prove it. You don’t want _liar_ next to your _injured_ label.”

It was Cloud’s turn to scowl, fixing the expression on the brunet as he turned to put the case away. “I can prove it. Irvine knows—“

“Irvine is dead.”

And with that, Leon took his leave, the door shutting with more force than usual.

But what else did he expect from a man made of stone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cloud/Leon is FINALLY starting to happen.  
> Kind of...ish.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter doesn't contain anything I could see as being triggering, and there's no gore, but it is a bit... messed up? I dunno. What do you expect from Hojo? But if you'd rather skip that, just scroll down to the first line you see that breaks up the text. If you skip it, you won't be missing much, as it will be addressed in a less-sick way later on. Take care of yourselves!

Irvine didn’t know what ShinRa wanted from him.

He had dropped his weapons and surrendered fully when he had jumped down from his perch, only to have three guns and a sword pointed at him. It was either fight and attract the others to a horribly out-gunned fight, or surrender and hope that the rest of their ragtag team had made it to safety. So he had welcomed that gun in his spine as his hands were tied behind his back with a biting plastic zip-tie, though that didn’t mean he was _happy_ about it. He was shoved to walk forward, tripping and stumbling here and there due to the lack of light. How the soldiers could see in the almost-pitch blackness was beyond him, but he was so focused on _not_ falling and potentially cracking his head open that he hardly registered that there was now only one man with him now and the others had disappeared.

“This is Squad Six. Got a live one. Delivering now.”

There was only one man, and Irvine was fairly certain in his own ability that, even unarmed, he could take him. He was already thinking of how to use his leverage and how to get out of the zip-ties when a voice relayed through the enemy’s own walkie.

_“Knock ‘em out and bring ‘em down.”_

He acted fast, feeling the gun cease pressure on his spine as the soldier made to hit him over the head. But he ducked quickly, diving out of the way and falling into a crouch, back awkwardly pressed against a slab of a concrete wall. The lighting was _terrible_ and he didn’t trust himself to run, but the mouthpiece wrapped around the man’s ear and corded to his walkie was blinking bright blue and if he backed up and raised his foot and kicked right _there_ —

The kick was blocked, and he made to shift back into a standing position, but the gun was simply switched to the man’s other hand while the other grabbed Irvine by the underside of his calf and twisted and Irvine felt himself rushing towards the ground to avoid his leg being broken, but he couldn’t move his arms to catch himself and no sooner than his face hit debris-covered dirt, the butt of an M4 slammed into his skull and shattered the world around him.

He would have liked to say that he regained consciousness in a soft, comfy hospital bed, or even the crammed backseat of the pickup truck as Larxene drove them back to Balamb. He would have even liked to say that he was warm and comfortable, and he might have even settled for a small headache where a lump was growing. That he could smell his mom’s home cooking and hear birds outside and see the blue sky and everything was okay.

But the harsh reality was nothing like what he wanted.

The reality was that he awoke to lonesome cold, and his head was roaring and throbbing with pain.

He wasn’t lying on a blanket or anything close to it—There was a cold metal floor around him, rusted and dirty from age and misuse. His second observation was that he was cold because he was completely nude, and he shuddered and folded in on himself at the realization. Looking around himself like a frightened animal, ignoring the pain that was trying to force its way out of his skull, he noticed that he was not in a room, but a cage. The bars were too close together for any hope of slipping through them, and the door was heavily padlocked and bolted. The ceiling of the rusted metal prison was too low for him to stand, his head just barely touching it sitting up like he was. It was rectangular, large enough in one direction for him to lay flat, but only being three to four feet wide. The lighting was fluorescent and distant, and leaning forward, he could see that the source was likely up on a high ceiling. The floor was probably ten feet down from where he was, but there was a metal grate of a catwalk just outside of his door. Looking around a bit more confirmed that he was inside of a wall made completely of cages with naked humans in them. Only a few were empty, and he watched with muted horror as three men in lab coats dragged an unresponsive body from a cage three down from his, throwing the body onto a metal cart like the ones seen in library aisles before rolling it away.

He felt like an animal.

Noises registered later, after the steady beat of blood in his ears finally faded while his anxiety spiked. He couldn’t hear much, but there was the muffled sound of crying, the hum of electricity somewhere distant, and the very hushed speech of a person.

A person that was talking to him.

“Hey, can you hear me? You, with the long hair. A-are you okay?”

He turned towards the noise, finding it coming from within his own cage, just behind him. Trembling with anxiety and adrenaline, he made to turn towards his neighbor, only to fall onto his chest and re-discover that his hands were still bound. Shifting his legs, he forced himself to sit up again, careful not to bump his sore head. He had to squint in the dim light in order to see who was talking to him, and when he saw, he felt a little sick.

It was a child. A boy, nowhere near eighteen. But he looked so much younger, his eyes wide and sunken as he shivered, his hands unbound and wrapped around his bare, bruised knees.

“C-can you see who they took away?”

His throat was dry, mouth moving for a moment before he could get his voice to work. “How old are you?”

“Who did they take away?”

He swallowed, eyes darting to the side, but the cart and the men were already gone. “I-I don’t know. They had black hair—“

His eyes, if possible, got bigger. “Was it a girl? A little girl, like my age?”

“I-I don’t think so.”

He sighed, a rattled, hollow sound. He buried his face into his knees for a moment as he shuddered, and Irvine looked away into the cage to his left just to give him privacy. Beside him was a small girl, sitting right beside the front door of her cage with her hands so tight around the bars that he wondered if she could pull them apart with pure will. Her hair was long, unkempt, and shimmered between a strawberry blonde and deep red in the lighting. There was another girl in the back of her cage, huddled up in the corner, but Irvine couldn't see anything but her thin spine and the spilling platinum blonde against the dark metal. He would have thought her dead, if he couldn't see the slow rise and fall of her sides as she breathed.

For a moment, the bleak situation reminded him of Sephiroth, and he had the default urge to blame _him_ for this. Sephiroth had ties to ShinRa, and ShinRa had attacked them. Had Sephiroth alerted the soldiers of their presence? No, how would he have known that they were going to Midgar? Or was it all just a joke—Was the absence of infected and other scavengers a way to get them to let their guard down? Had any of the others been taken?

“I’m f-fifteen,” was the fragile voice of the boy behind him, Irvine turning to look at him again. “My name’s… Sora. And that’s… that’s Kairi.”

Sora?

Where had he heard that name before?

“What’s your name…?” He sounded so timid, so scared. He sounded like a little boy on his first day of school, terrified to death and wanting nothing more than to go home and see his mother. Granted, at least part of that was likely true.

“I’m Irvine,” he murmured, eyes still rapidly scanning his new surroundings. He wondered if he was dreaming right now, and if he was, where he would _really_ wake up. Back at the base, in the truck, on the ground in Midgar? “Where am I?”

Kairi spoke up this time, yet she didn’t move from her post at the rusted iron bars. “We’re underground. We’re miles below the surface of Midgar, I’d bet. This is the holding room. We’re… specimens. Animals.”

Sora looked a little paler and hid his face in his knees again.

The young girl continued, unabashed by the sadness and fear of the boy behind her. “They take us out of these only if we’re dead or they have specified tests. Normally they’ll just pull up to your cage and shoot you up with those big needles. They’ll drug you ‘til you don’t know your own name anymore. It’s for a cure.”

A cure?

“Wait, a cure for what?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Kairi spat, turning away from the narrow bars and shooting Irvine a look that made him flinch. Her eyes were as bruised as Sora’s, but there was a black eye blossoming on her left, her petite nose split open and in the process of healing crudely. “They say it’s to save the human race, but it’s too late anyway. It’s just glorified torture.”

“Kairi, stop,” Sora whispered, shaking even more violently than he already was.

“I won’t stop until I’m out of here. Until we’re _all_ out of here.”

“But—“

“Xion was the one they took away. She’s alive. She’s faking to make a break for it.”

Sora’s head snapped up, his hands clawing at metal as he scrambled forward, past Irvine, as if he could reach the redheaded youth. “What?! What if she—“

“She’ll be fine.” And with that, she turned back to the grim view, hands as tight as ever. “Just don’t freak out about it. We’ll get out. We just have to wait for the right moment.”

Irvine finally spoke up, not liking the broken look Sora was burning into Kairi’s pale freckled back. “Do you know how to get out?”

It wasn’t Kairi or Sora that spoke up that time, but rather the cage on his right. It was another boy there, his hands tied tight behind him, sitting in a position similar to Kairi. There was a nasty gash on his upper arm, dry blood caked on porcelain pale skin. He could also see that his knees had been scraped up, and there was more dried blood matted in his strangely white hair.

“They take the dead to another room. A room without security in it. If Xion gets taken there, she might be able to figure a way out if she doesn’t get thrown into an incinerator.”

“It’s not likely she’ll make it,” Kairi muttered, sitting up straighter as the metal double-doors further down opened again, the men returning with an empty cart. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

“She’ll make it,” Sora argued, sitting back in his curled-up position.

Silence paused between the three, but Irvine could feel an unseen tension like electricity in the air. The metal cart rolled on, slipping under the catwalk and forcing Irvine to lean forwards in order to watch. There were three, two huddled around one of the men that held a clipboard. He couldn’t hear their hushed conversation, but Riku’s voice overwhelmed any hope to hear them.

“I’ll kill ‘em,” the boy muttered, pressing himself against the bars and raising his hoarse voice to scream. “YOU HEAR ME?! I’LL KILL YOU FOR THIS!”

“Riku!” Sora hissed, scrambling to the other side of his shared cage again, grabbing at the bars. “Riku, don’t—!”

Riku?

He knew that name too.

“What was that, faggot?” one of the men below shouted, leaving his two fellows to drag out a body from the cage below Riku. This body, however, was very much alive, and giving weak flails of arms and legs to get away. But Irvine watched in horror as a needle was shoved in the man’s throat, staring sickly as he went slack and unresponsive.

“You heard me!” Riku shouted, throwing his weight against the bars of his cage to rattle them. “’Save Humanity’ my ass! You sick fucks are just—!”

The man had raised what looked like nothing but a long pole with a metal barb at the end to the bottom of Riku’s cage, and the sharp sound of electricity shot through the air as he writhed, hitting his head on the ceiling of the shallow cage and falling flat on his back, screaming until he went completely mute. The pole was removed, but he continued to seize and thrash, and Irvine could hear others screaming as well, as if it was some kind of morbid bird call.

“Shut up,” the man snapped, collapsing the pole to only two feet long and tucking it inside of his coat, leaving with the other two men and their sedated subject.

Sora was sobbing and reaching through the bars, begging Riku not to speak, to be okay, to calm down. Kairi was even more motionless than before, and Riku was heaving breaths into his lungs as his fingers and toes continued to twitch with the remnant of the charges. The screaming around them had stopped, but they could still hear soft sobbing and muted, terrified conversation.

"Maybe waiting… isn't good enough."

Irvine had always said that the outbreak had made the world into hell, but he didn’t know what Hell really _was_ until now.

And he wanted _out_.

* * *

 

Breakfast consisted of leftover baked potatoes and whole peaches from Midgar.

The only ones that actually _came_ to breakfast were Aerith and Cloud. They knew that Leon had gone to position in the sniper’s post, and Cid was in the lab with Sephiroth. They had no idea what the other three were doing, but it was likely Axel and Seifer were somewhere with Larxene.

They had eaten in silence for only five minutes, shoveling peach slices into their mouths, before Aerith spoke up.

“I want to go to Midgar.”

Cloud nearly choked, taking a long drink of water to help wash the fruit down his throat. He didn’t even look at her, however, spearing another chunk of peach on the end of his fork. “It’s too dangerous. You heard what they said.”

“But there’s a possibility that Irvine’s alive. And if there’s a possibility that Irvine’s alive, there’s a possibility that the kids are there too. We have to at least try—We have to get them. And if they’re dead…” She shook her head, placing her fork down and rubbing at her tired face. She had ended up getting no sleep the previous night, even after Cid had left her to go to his own room. She had just sat herself in the lab for the night, nursing the same cigarette, even after it had gone out. “We have to know for sure. You promised Sora you would come back for him, didn’t you?”

His fork speared another slice, but his concentration was on the sensation of the fruit going down his throat.

“They’re family. Maybe not entirely by blood, but they’re our family. Irvine, Sora, Riku, Xion… We have to go.”

“It’s too dangerous,” he repeated, his voice sounding coldly detached.

“Then we get help. We can’t be the only ones that want Irvine back! You saw how Leon reacted!”

“Aerith…”

Her hand slammed onto the table, drawing his evasive eyes to her pleading expression. “We pack weapons, we load up one of the cars, and we go! Cid has the keys, and he keeps them in a closet in the computer room! We go, and we go now! I can fight! You’re not in the best shape, I know, but that’s why we have to go together! I can protect you, Cloud!”

He wanted to go to Midgar. He wanted to find Sora, to save him. He would save the others too, of course, but Sora was his priority. He would save Sora, and get revenge on this _Hojo_ bastard. He needed to go to Midgar. He knew he wasn’t at his peak of health, and having busted ribs and a fractured arm was highly likely to complicate things more. But he had to get to Midgar.

He wasn’t going to lose his only brother without a fight.

But he wasn’t going to risk losing Aerith in the process.

“We’ll go when they say it’s safe.”

Her pleading turned rapidly into frustration, her palm slapping against the cheap table again, rattling their plates and cups of water. “It might be too late by then!”

“There’s no other choice,” he insisted, letting go of his fork, but leaving it sticking up in the air out of the peach. “As we are now, we don’t stand a chance against ShinRa soldiers or this Hojo guy. I can hardly even carry my sword as I am, and could you really kill a real man with a shovel? You said you only killed the infected because you were mad, and you saw it for what it was in the moment. Could you do that to a real, healthy human? Could you? _Will_ you?”

Aerith relented, looking down at the hand she still had on the table.

“Sephiroth said that Hojo took them for testing, so doesn’t that mean that he’ll keep them alive? We can wait. We _have_ to wait. At least until we can get more help.”

“But what if we’re too late…?”

He sighed, watching her fingers pick at her road-burned dress.

“That’s just something we have to trust them on.”

* * *

 

The fragile thread that the Balamb group had been balancing on had been snipped and they had all toppled to whatever was waiting for them under the unraveled stitching.

Larxene and Axel weren’t seen all day. Seifer had gone to the sniper’s post and stayed there even after nightfall. Cid and Sephiroth were locked inside of the lab with their data, Leon either with them or wandering aimlessly, and Aerith was in the greenhouse.

Which left Cloud to lay in bed and _think_.

And Cloud being left to his own devices and his own mind was not a safe thing.

Of course, he had mulled over his conversation with Aerith. He knew it was dangerous to go into Midgar, and the odds of Sora having survived the Plate’s destruction were slim. Yes, he had been on the top, but in order to crash the whole Plate, that would mean that the central pillar of the city would have to be destroyed. The central pillar that served as ShinRa’s main office, and was likely the area that Riku, Sora, and Xion had been taken to, was something that wouldn't fall easily, either. Which meant that their chances of survival were slim to none.

But on the other hand, there was _still_ a chance that they had all survived.

He didn’t know his way around Midgar very well. During his five years, he had rarely left his home sector, and had only been to Wall Market on his last day. The furthest he had gone from the orphanage had been the church three blocks down, or the hardware store four blocks away. If he hadn’t known how to get around the circular metropolis then, how would he, or even _Aerith_ , know how to get around when it was destroyed? Not only that, but they had _no_ idea where Hojo was. If ShinRa’s main office had been demolished, along with the rest of the city, did that mean that Hojo was somewhere underground? And if he was underground, where? The city was over fifty miles in diameter, making it impossible for two people to scour every square inch of Midgar to find some sort of underground entrance that Hojo _might_ be hiding in like a cockroach.

But if they found Hojo, what then? Sephiroth had warned them against specialized fighters and an entire army. If that was to be trusted, then Cloud and Aerith wouldn’t stand a hair’s chance in confrontation with a razor. Even if the entire group had managed to band together, it was unlikely that they would stand a chance either. If they somehow managed to sneak around the enemy, then what? Where would Hojo be? Where would Sora and the others be? What about Irvine?

But then there was Sephiroth.

Cloud wasn’t sure what to do, or what to think, about Sephiroth. He seemed to hold some kind power over the group—Some kind of authority even over Cid and Leon. And yet, the trust they placed in him seemed to be situational, at best. They seemed to trust him with data, but his explanation at the “emergency meeting” seemed to leave them all with speculation. What he had explained was like something out of a sci-fi novel, and Cloud shared sentiments with Axel, then. Perhaps spinning such an unrealistic tale was a way to keep them off the elusive Hojo’s tracks, and Cloud was going to look at the whole thing without a shred of belief until he saw proof.

Which brought him back to making the trip to Midgar. If he made it there, he might see proof. Hell, he didn't even have absolute proof that the Plate had fallen.

It was horrifically dangerous, and he likely wouldn’t stand a chance to even make the trip there. But…

Irvine had mentioned, what seemed like years ago, that the Fusion sword could be broken down into smaller blades.

He got out of bed with a sudden surge of energy, grabbing the heavy weapon that had been collecting dust against the dresser. Taking a seat on the floor, he began to investigate the scattering of fasteners and screws and springs just above the hilt, noting the placement of a few small latches and buttons. A bit of messing around with the thing with thin patience finally resulted in a little _click_ , and the massive blade broke into two equal pieces. More latches and buttons and unscrewed fasteners later, he was sitting on the floor with six pieces of steel blades around him.

The smallest and lightest had been the third, with a handle grafted into the actual blade, his fingers fitting in as if they were just morbid brass knuckles. He would definitely need to wear gloves, however, as the steel was just sharp and uncomfortable within his grip. It was roughly eighteen inches long, sharp only on the outer edge with an angled tip that could be used for stabbing. Another piece he found to his liking was what had remained on the original hilt, the blade double-sided and folding into a sharpened point at the tip. It was a bit too heavy for just one hand, however, and so he put the five remaining pieces back together and leaned the sword back against the dresser.

“What are you doing?”

He jumped as Leon entered, sitting on the edge of his bed and using some of the brunet’s toolset to help sharpen the stagnant blade. He was expecting some sort of anger that he had tapped into the other’s sword-keeping equipment, but he got just the opposite.

“I was wondering if you were just going to let that sit there and collect dust.” He shook his head, walking over to grab a flashlight off of his bunk, clipping it to his belt. “Come with me for a few minutes. I got something you might be happy to see.”

His brows immediately went down in suspicion, setting the blade and stone aside. “What…?”

He shrugged, opening the door and holding it for Cloud. “Come on. Either move now, or Cid finds some excuse to recycle it.”

He frowned, but stood, stepping into the hall and following Leon to the lobby, where he took a different, new door and Cloud followed him in silent wonder. They soon went up a staircase and emerged outside, the setting sun blazing the whole smokey sky orange as if it was burning. Here, some of the structure was still standing, leaving three walls, half of a staircase going up to where the second floor once was, a severely fractured and missing ceiling, and the doors that had been blown inward and dismantled. Inside of the large entryway was an old Chevrolet 4x4 and a generic soccer mom van that Cloud couldn’t identify immediately—The bumper where the brand and name had once been had fallen off at some point.

But, more importantly, there was a sleek black motorbike parked by the upward stairs.

“That’s my—“

But coming closer showed that the front tire was completely gone, the thing cautiously balanced on the stairs in place of a jack. Cloud was too busy running his hands over the scratches and dents that it had accumulated to notice that Leon was moving, grabbing something from the bed of the truck and rolling it over.

“We found tires in Midgar, but this is probably the only one that has a chance of fitting. You had off-roader tires on it before, so this should work. I got it off a four wheeler.”

Cloud blinked and moved out of the way as Leon rolled the tire up beside the bare rim. “Do you have tire irons to put it on, or…?”

“We don’t have any, but we have pliers. The handles of those will work.” Leaning the tire against the stairs, he pointed to the truck. “The toolbox is in the bed. Bring it over here and give me a hand.”

He obeyed, an odd sort of excitement in his chest as he offered his only hand to help with the tire change. It was a bit difficult, using the back end of pliers, but small talk filled the gaps that muttered frustrations had.

“This is a really nice bike. Where’d you even get it?”

“My dad had it. He was… kind of a collector. He custom-built it.”

“I figured. It’s not very workable like something made professionally. How big’s the engine?”

“It’s a 2400CC engine.” Pulling his hand back as the tire (surprisingly) fit snug into place, he patted the paneling that covered the engine. “It’s a big gas-guzzler, but it carried me and my brothers across the whole country.”

“Must be loud,” Leon commented dryly, wiping his hands on his jeans after tossing the pliers back into the toolbox.

“It has good mufflers, but it’s not really built for stealth. We ended up pushing it through heavily infected areas.”

“All that just to get to Midgar, huh?”

He frowned, putting the box back into the bed of the truck and leaning on the bumper. “It was… the best chance of safety that we had.”

“Look how that turned out.” 

He bit the inside of his cheek, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know why, but he found himself saying, “I was thinking about going to Midgar soon.”

Leon shoved the bike off of the stairs before kicking the stand back down. And he, for the second time that day, surprised Cloud with his response. “I had a feeling you were. You picked up the sword for once, and when you saw your bike, I saw the gears turning.” He leveled a calculating stare at the blond, focusing on his arm. “You really think you stand a chance in your condition?”

“If I die there, oh well. I’m going alone. I won't endanger anyone else.”

Brown brows rose, the scar between them stretching with the skin. “Alone? You won’t get _close_ if you go alone.”

“But if I do—“

“You’ll get killed.”

He scowled, staring down at his dirty shoes. Why had he told Leon that he was considering it? He hadn’t even made the absolute decision himself. Now that he had told Leon, that made another obstacle for him. Not only did he have to get out of the dorms and get to Midgar without Aerith knowing, but now he had to get around Leon, who ran with the title “leader” loosely around his neck. But when he made to speak, to deny that he wasn’t going to go after all, but Leon spoke at the same time.

“Okay, I won’t—“

“I’ll go with you.”

Cloud started, lifting his head to stare. Leon was leaning against the empty saddlebags of the bike, one hand idly running over the smooth, worn saddle.

“What?” he mumbled, skepticism rising. Was he just trying to lure him into a false sense of security, only to turn on him and have him rounded up with anyone else that had gone to Midgar?

“You want your brother, and if you go as you are, you won’t make it in, much less out. Am I right?”

Cloud frowned, shifting nervously. “Yeah, I guess…”

“So I’ll go with you.”

“Because you want Irvine back?”

It was Leon’s turn to frown, pushing off of the bike and heading for the stairway they had emerged from. “I just want to get more loot before it’s all gone.”

Leon wasn’t a very good liar.


End file.
